Crossing without steps ||K.M.G (arranged marriage, classism) @nerdycheol
𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐑 - 𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐘𝐔 (Mingyu might not have been a big fan of pink before, but the moment he lays his eyes on you, everything changes, and it seems to make its way to his favorites.) @jakedustry
𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐙𝐘 - 𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐘𝐔 (aviator!mingyu x fem!reader) @jakedustry
no more hiding (you’ve been in love with him since you met, and you realize your feeling possibly aren’t one sided.) @straylightdream
Jeon Wonwoo
Back For More | J.WW (badboy!wonwoo x fem!reader) @kyeomofhearts
Felt Right | J.W.W (Wonwoo x long time gf!reader) @petersasteria
Caramel Pudding | part one (jeon wonwoo × medical intern!f!reader grey's anatomy!au) @cxffecoupx
recover. (jeon wonwoo x reader) (f1 driver!wonwoo x orthopedic surgeon!reader) @woncheolisms
someone stole my lunch?! 𑣲 j. wonwoo (attorney! wonwoo, reader is in pr team, strangers to lovers, food puns) @epelletart
You & I (j.ww) (Chauffeur! Wonwoo x Mafia!Reader) @sailorsoons
yours alone (a shopping trip at a home goods store turns tense when Wonwoo notices other men staring at you. his jealousy is quiet at first until someone actually approaches you. back home, possessiveness transforms into something deeper as you both prove exactly who you belong to.) @hanniejoo
my dearest, (arranged marriage, smut, romance, angst) @straylightdream
can i call you rose? || jeon wonwoo (fwb au, neighbors au, a lil angsty, smut, the reader is mentioned to be older than wonwoo) @belovedgyu
calm during the storm (cowboy!wonwoo x wife!reader) @junkissed
anaheim ❆ j.ww [m] (you and wonwoo are bound by the radio waves of wireless fidelity — and lose each other to the ether, until you're both on opposite ends of the same state, and on opposite sides of where you need to be to belong to one another...even when something tells you that it was never supposed to be you and him forever.) @haologram
Hong Jisoo
under the starlight | h.js (jazz singer!joshua x f!reader) @starlightkyeom
24H | NSFW (Stranger!Joshua Hong x Small Town Barista!Reader) @kiestrokes
Xu Minghao
the diamond life ◊ x.mh [m] (model!xu minghao x fem!pitcher!reader) @haologram
read me and weep - x.mh (best friends/coworkers to lovers, whole lot of yearning) @gentleisa
WHEN THE SUN RISES IN NEW YORK ✶ Xu Minghao (PART ONE) (
Artist!Minghao x F!Reader 1920s!au, non idol!au, strangers to (?), serendipity, fluff, angst, smut.) @vernonverse
Yoon Jeonghan
Date Night (hitman!jeonghan x hitman!fem!reader) @orbitondgtl
Amontillado (y.jh) ( Vampire!Jeonghan x human!Reader) @sailorsoons
Kwon Soonyoung
546 DAYS | k.sy (part one) (rookie!soonyoung x training officer!fem!reader) @livmarauder
Virago (k.sy) ( Ares!Soonyoung x Priestess!Reader) @sailorsoons
Kitty: Act I (fluff, angst, eventual smut (suggestive for sure), 1920s au, strangers to lovers au, slow burn) @aeristudios
Lee Seokmin
𝐁𝐄𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐈𝐂 - 𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐊𝐌𝐈𝐍 (singer!seokmin x radio host!fem!reader) @jakedustry
Wen Junhui
Pendulum (There are many things your father never told you when he left you his flower shop; the ever creaky door hinges, the delivery man who can never seem to tell the orchids from the gardenias, and the headquarters of the biggest mafia in New York operating in the employee break room.) @gyuswhore
Deadlock (w.jh) (Hitman!Junhui x Spy!Reader) @sailorsoons
Chwe Hansol
fated season | hvc (viscount!vernon x f!reader) @luvrung
Last Call (angst, fluff, brother's best friend) @wqnwoos
summary: after 90 years of cryosleep, you wake to a world that has left you behind. the red room is eradicated. hydra is in hiding. you are the living remnant of a long-gone super soldier project that shaped you into the ultimate weapon. but now, the other side of the same coin has awakened, and you're the only one who can rein him in before its too late.
wc: 11.5k
cw/tags: winter soldier!seungcheol x black widow!reader, angst/comfort with fluff and a happy ending, reader's red room alias is an OC (basically the red room equivalent of a supersoldier) but no other description is given, implied fem!reader, cameos from 3mix and antman!dk and spiderman!hansol, dark content ahead, please read below warnings before reading
dark content warnings: graphic violence, descriptions of blood and death, discussions of handlers/shock therapy/mind control/bloodlust/assassins and other themes associated with marvel comics' winter soldier character, dangerously protective seungcheol, even more dangerously protective reader, alcohol/drinking, food/eating, the bad guys are slimy and gross and misogynists (it's ok we kill them), themes of codependency, please let me know if there are others I should add and consume media at your own discretion!
note: i spent wayyyy too long figuring out how to photoshop seungcheol's face onto sebastian stan as the winter soldier's body so do NOT say it is AI or i will feed you to kwon soonyoung. anyway hope you like this, i luv luv luv luv luv infinity saga mcu (don't ask me about current mcu...) so this was one of my favorite fics to write ever hehe. also shoutout @noniesgummysmile for feeding my winter soldier!scoups delulu...couldn't have done this without you eia lol. enjoy!
likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated! <3
Casablanca, Morocco – 2025
The port has changed since you visited 90 years ago.
The weather remains relatively the same, the city bathed in constant humidity from the adjacent ocean and comfortably warm in stark contrast to the sweltering summer days. A mild breeze carries the smell of salt and tanker oil, the latter bringing more pungent scents than the steam ships you remember. Below you are rows upon rows of shipping containers in every color and size imaginable, outnumbering the wood-paneled warehouses you’d traversed in 1935. The soft lapping of waves is overshadowed by humming machinery, buzzing electric lines, and distant rattling of various machines. You find no quiet in the sky, dark and obscured by the lights illuminating the port. Even after two years of waking up in an entirely new millennium, you still aren’t used to the cacophony of sounds that comes with decades of technological advances.
It’s so loud. Everything is louder in this new age.
“Are we sure he’s coming?” Nayeon’s voice crackles through your earpiece and you startle, nearly falling backward off your perch on the catwalk of a massive crane. You hear her chuckle and she waves at you from her position on another crane. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Don’t be fooled. The more you get to know her, the more you get to know her tricks, too,” Jihyo adds, barely visible under the cranes from her spot between two containers.
“They’re both tricky. Let’s leave it at that,” Jeongyeon concludes, and your ears are overrun as the other two adamantly do not leave it at that. You let yourself smile, if only a little bit. The Red Room never allowed you to make friends, much less ones as close as the three ex-Widows that had helped you adjust to the new world. You were still hesitant to call them friends despite how easily they referred to you as one, even going so far as to volunteer themselves to help you capture Choi Seungcheol.
Shit.
You take a deep breath and refocus your energy on the task at hand. The watch on your hand–an analog one you chose when you politely declined a newfangled digital thing–reads nearly midnight.
“I’m not sure, honestly. He's…programmed,” you choke on the word like poison, “to return to Casablanca and be retrieved by Hydra handlers after every mission. Even if he's just as unnerved as I was by this new world, his brain will guide him to what it knows, and that's Casablanca.” You hesitate and remember how you were also programmed to do something similar, though your rendezvous point was Jakarta. “This is all a hunch, though, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t scared of getting put back under if this whole plan fails.”
“We’d never let that happen,” Jeongyeon promises you. “Plus, the world doesn’t work like that anymore.” You sigh.
“Two years out of a test tube and I still don’t know how the world works,” you frown.
“That’s okay. Just know that no one’s getting put on ice again as long as we’re around.” The sincerity in Jihyo’s voice makes your chest a little lighter.
“Except maybe Mina, just to see her reaction. I think it'd be funny,” muses Nayeon and you finally crack a smile. However, any smart remark that you could contribute dies in your throat as a flash of silver dashes between two containers a few yards away from Jihyo’s position. Your heart drops like a stone into your stomach.
He’s here.
“Jihyo, 4 o’clock. Eyes up,” you order, your voice lethally serious. The energy in the entire port seems to shift as you double check your descender secured to the rail of the crane. “Remember, he doesn’t know you and he’s not trained to find out.” He probably doesn’t even know me anymore. “He’ll eliminate adversaries on sight and we’re about to ambush him. Proceed with caution.”
“Copy,” Jihyo confirms, already slipping through the containers like a shadow.
“I’m in position,” Jeongyeon states and you catch the clinking of a tranquilizing tube being loaded into her rifle. “Get me eyes on him and I’ll wait for your signal.”
“Got it. Nayeon, on my mark.”
“Ready when you are, boss,” she murmurs, dangling off the catwalk like an impatient spider.
“Be careful, all three of you,” you warn. “And as a personal favor, try not to fuck him up too badly. Please?”
“We won’t kill your boyfriend, we promise,” Jeongyeon swears with a teasing lilt in her voice. You swallow thickly and ignore the rising warmth in your face but don't argue.
“Okay. Jihyo, you have permission to engage,” you state and Nayeon is already halfway down her rope by the time you start descending. Warm air rushes past your face as your controlled fall brings you to the ground within seconds. You unclip the descender from your belt and sprint in the direction of Jihyo and Seungcheol. Nayeon throws herself into the fight with a roundhouse that Seungcheol blocks easily with his metal arm, shoving her off and using the momentum to swing at Jihyo, but she’s too quick. Both her and Nayeon play their parts perfectly, keeping Seungcheol distracted enough for you to find an opening to hit him with a syringe of the same tranquilizer in Jeongyeon’s rifle. As the best sharpshooter of her generation in the Red Room, Jeongyeon was the last resort if you, Nayeon, and Jihyo were incapacitated.
You stalk through the shadows, circling the fight while sweat beads on your forehead and a feverish sensation chokes your body. The monster that the Red Room trained within you was baring its teeth, eager to kill and kill and kill the way you were built to. That carnal, animalistic part of you whispers to throw Jihyo and Nayeon aside and take down Seungcheol yourself, a side effect of the Red Room’s supersoldier serum that only you had survived experimentation with. You were itching to fight him, like some part of your brain recognized him as your true equal and wanted to consume him entirely. Your serum-infected psyche recognized him as your enemy, and you wanted to tear him to shreds. The urge nearly overwhelms you but you fight it down like bile, gripping the syringe tighter and waiting for the other Widows to do their jobs.
You have a handle on the bloodlust until Jihyo falls down and stays down, and your vision goes scarlet red.
It’s as if your mind takes a backseat to your body, lunging forward to grab Seungcheol’s metal arm by pure instinct and twisting as hard as you can, the jerking movement making the syringe fall from your other hand. Nayeon is quick to grab it and retreat backward, dragging an unconscious Jihyo away. Your arm trembles with effort, your super strength against his until your muscle gives way and you duck as he swings on you, your leg shooting out like lightning to throw him off-balance. You exchange bruising blows with him and find yourself panting from the effort it’s taking to restrain the side of you that wants to claw out his throat entirely. You’re barely thinking clearly, partially registering that the other Widows are saying something to you but not knowing what they’re trying to convey. Your mind is at war with itself, hellbent on the urge to kill and shaking with the restraint of keeping him alive enough to tranquilize. He’s in full tactical armor, including a dark mask covering the bottom half of his face, so your best bet in subduing him completely is to get the tranquilizer into his neck. You risk a glance over your shoulder and feel a sobering chill run down your back as Nayeon touches Jihyo’s head and gapes at the sticky blood coating her palm.
With a shudder and a cry that tears itself from your throat, you let the bloodlust take over and all but drag him onto the floor. It's the perfect opening to seize Seungcheol’s metal arm and force it in a direction you know it’s not supposed to go. He thrashes like an animal in a trap, clawing and slamming his fists against your leg that keeps him from escaping, but the pain is nothing but numbness in the face of your single goal of crippling his greatest weapon. He roars in rage but you keep your grip on the metal limb until it wrenches off of him entirely with a sickening crunch. He goes limp and you briefly panic that you killed him until you spot the shallow rise and fall of his chest. You don’t fare much better; your vision is spotty and you feel like you’re watching yourself from a third-person perspective as Nayeon tosses you the syringe. You catch it in one hand and sink it into the side of Seungcheol’s neck, keeping him in your hold until his eyes shut completely.
You lay there on the floor, heaving and half-dead until Jeongyeon arrives to secure Seungcheol’s restraints. You somehow manage to bring yourself upright as the extraction team arrives, squinting in the blinding headlights of the armored vehicles. Waving off the EMT trying to get you onto a gurney and mumbling something that resembled an apology to Seungcheol is the last thing you remember before you black out entirely.
—
Madripoor – 1939
You first meet the Winter Soldier two weeks after you’re given the serum.
A modified version of Hydra’s supersoldier formula is what you were told was injected, trading the parts that would give you muscles as large as a gorilla’s for enhanced vision and metabolism. You were meant to be the ultimate weapon of stealth, a knife in the dark slipped into the ribs of the Red Room’s enemies. The scientists succeeded, for the most part–you were the deadliest Widow in the program before the serum and only became more lethal after it. What the scientists didn’t account for were the sudden, overwhelming fevers of bloodlust that possessed you whenever you trained with other prospective serum recipients. The serum whispered to you like a demon, pushing you to use any means necessary to survive…even if it meant your hands were covered in blood by the end of an everyday spar. The Red Room had blurred the lines between creating a soldier and creating a monster, and you were the sole survivor of all consequent experimentations. They called it ‘Project: Arachne,’ but you later took on the moniker solely as your own after the others disappeared.
The monster you had become paled in comparison to the shell of a man that Hydra was puppetting.
“Where did you find such a creature? Such strength, such rage,” one of your handlers remarks, circling the Winter Soldier as he stands like a statue in the center of the room, a private chamber in the back of a dive bar that reeks of mildew. The air sticks to you like moldy glue, sweat running down your back and threatening to melt off the picture-perfect face of makeup you were required to wear. Once a pirate stronghold, the island nation was now a cesspool of criminal activity, brimming with drug kingpins and mercenary gangs that kept the streets in a constant state of warfare. Madripoor is a chaos you cannot control, a steaming shithole completely opposite of the pristine halls of the Red Room. If you had to choose, it would be the last place you would ever set foot in again. “What a beast you have created!”
“He was a soldier that had fallen off a freight train in the Alps; we found him and made him into something we could use,” the Winter Soldier’s primary handler explains with a smile that looks more like a sneer. “Of course, there were some fixes to account for,” he continues, gesturing to the bionic metal arm on the Soldier’s left side. “Except for this, however, he was a picture perfect specimen.” The sight before you makes your stomach turn. The serum and the Red Room’s experiments had left you with at least some semblance of your own mind, but it seemed like the man in front of you was nothing but a machine activated whenever Hydra needed someone disposed. But without that role? The Soldier was a puppet, his eyes empty and his face blank in a way that nauseated you.
“You’ve put us miles ahead of our enemies with this creation,” a deep-voiced stockholder that frequented the Red Room booms from behind you. The Soldier remains motionless, the bottom half of his face covered by a dark mask, but you catch his eyes flickering to the source of the voice and narrowing, ever so slightly. His face was blank, but his distrust of those who had brought you here was apparent.
“You are too kind, really,” a beady-eyed Hydra scientist declares with a humble hand over his heart. You suppress the urge to claw his insect-like eyes from his skull when his attention turns to you, looming over you as you sit perfectly poised on your seat, your legs crossed and back straight like a fucking doll. “But I would like to discuss this beauty. Does she speak?” A clammy hand moves in slow motion to caress your face and you catch his wrist in your fingers, sinking your nails into his flesh not enough to make him bleed, but enough to make him hesitate.
“This beauty can speak for herself, sir,” you correct with a saccharine smile. Your handlers chuckle at your antics and a firm hand on your shoulder makes you release the Hydra scientist. Your nausea increases tenfold at the touch and you fight the instinct to stiffen, knowing that reacting in such a way would only make your handlers upset. Instead, you turn to the handler behind you with a kind look that falters when you see him looking at the Soldier rather than at you, a sort of sick amusement flashing behind his eyes.
You turn back to what could be drawing his attention and see the Soldier’s hand resting on his gun. His face is expressionless, but you swear the muscle in his jaw has tightened. He’s staring past you at your handler and his hold on your shoulder, eyes dark as a storm. He makes no move to draw the firearm, yet the mere presence of his hand against it is enough to sour the jovial atmosphere in the room. If he wanted to, this Soldier could have all of you in a puddle of your own blood before you could blink, and the polite conversation tapers into tense silence as those in the room make the same realization. As if testing what the Soldier would do, your handler tightens his hold on your shoulder and you swallow. The Soldier’s, in turn, tightens around his weapon.
“I believe your soldier is threatening me,” the handler behind you observes lightly. The Soldier’s stare is molten, and if looks alone could kill, your handler would be halfway to Hell already. “It seems he does not appreciate my interactions with Arachne,” he continues, his thumb brushing over your skin in a way that has you sinking your nails into your palms to keep from jerking away. The Soldier’s eyes dart to the imperceptible shake in your hands.
Before you finish blinking, everyone in the room is pointing a gun at each other, and the Soldier’s pistol is aimed straight between the eyes of your handler. You stand on instinct and draw your own gun from its holster on your thigh, leveling the barrel at the Soldier’s forehead. He doesn’t even blink, his gaze remaining past you and your weapon. Your handler’s grip remains and he seems unbothered when he speaks, though the sharp edge of his voice tells you otherwise.
“I thought he was completely erased of morality, doctor,” the handler grits.
“Perhaps one more round of shock therapy will do him some good, just to kill that last part of him that might remember his life before,” a Hydra scientist chuckles nervously, eyeing the Soldier with unease. A dozen guns or more are pointed at the Soldier like a morbid sort of halo, yet all you can see is the rage burning behind his eyes. Whether he was conscious of it or not, the Soldier was ready to kill your handler for touching you. It makes your heart unwillingly flip.
“‘Perhaps’ is right, doctor,” your handler agrees. “We wouldn’t want our stakeholders questioning the loyalty of their prized weapon.” The handler’s grip on your shoulder finally leaves, and the Soldier returns his gun to its holster. The rest of the room takes a breath, but you still feel air catching in your throat when the Soldier’s eyes meet yours and you recognize your own anger flaming in his dark irises. Your chest aches in a way more painful than any wound you experience during training. Two guards who the Soldier could probably snap in half like toothpicks grab him by the arms and escort him out of the room, leaving you with the Hydra handlers as well as your own.
Your mouth is moving before your mind can realize what you’re questioning, damning you to several days worth of harsh training as punishment for speaking out of turn.
“What is his name?” You ask, your voice low and guarded. You feel the irritation of your handlers stick into the back of your neck like needles, but you have to know. It feels wrong not to know.
“He is the Winter Soldier, Arachne,” someone answers patronizingly and you shake your head.
“Before. Who was he?” You turn to the scientist that wanted to caress your face and blink up at him through your eyelashes, putting on the mask of a stupid, innocent girl who asks the wrong questions at the wrong time. Your gamble works and the weak-brained one indulges you.
“‘Choi Seungcheol’ was the name on his dogtags when we found him, but he doesn’t answer to that anymore.” You nod, satisfied, and stare at the closed door where the Winter Soldier had been dragged away. “This won’t be the last time you see him, Arachne. You’ll be working together frequently on missions while Hydra and the Red Room sort out the kinks in the supersoldier serum formula.” I don’t want to work with him, you think to yourself. I don’t want him to have to be whatever it is they want him to be.
I don’t want him to live like this. Like me.
“Understood,” is all you reply with.
—
When Seungcheol dreams, moments pass in and out like sunlight refracting through water.
At first he’s stepping out of Mingyu’s Chrysler, helping a girl whose name he’d already forgotten hop out after him. It’s before the war, before the guns and the metal arm and you. Mingyu and his latest lady-friend are already hand-in-hand and skipping toward the entrance of the dance hall, leaving Seungcheol with this random girl who he thinks he might have seen at the soda fountain a few times before. Her hand is soft and clammy in his when she grabs it and drags him along too, talking airily about the importance of having a matching headscarf whenever one dons a dancing dress. Ever the gentleman, he nods along and pretends to be interested, even when he feels like a goldfish flopping around in the middle of Times Square.
When they finally push into the dance hall, Seungcheol finds himself looking for a face in the crowd that he’s not sure belongs in this memory, yet searches for anyway. The music of the big band roars and he’s on the dance floor in a blink, mechanically sorting through awkward movements while the girl in front of him slowly loses her patience. His limbs feel like gelatin and wooden logs at the same time, and his date soon becomes bored of him and latches onto the arm of another boy. Later in this memory, Seungcheol knows the boy will become too handsy with her. Mingyu will have to drag Seungcheol away from killing the guy after the latter slams his fist into the creep’s nose, and Seungcheol will remember it as the first time he felt vindicated in causing someone pain.
He enters a set of double doors at the back of the hall and finds himself in a different memory. If the thrill of the dance hall is distorted from noise and fluorescent lights, this one is soberingly clear. Same sticky air, same mildew stench, same dark shadows. He’s in Madripoor and his arm is extended, pointing the barrel of his pistol at a shithead Red Room agent that’s been keeping his hand on your shoulder for far too long. Whatever Hydra had done to him had made his body answer to his handlers rather than his own mind, so Seungcheol wasn’t completely sure how he was able to move independently in the first place. Maybe it was muscle memory, maybe it was the way the silent panic in your eyes made his vision go blood red. He didn’t know you, not yet, but his mind snarled around like a caged animal at the idea of someone laying a hand on you. The anger superseded any brainwashing Hydra had done to him, and only fortified itself after the subsequent rounds of shock therapy made in an attempt to rid him completely of his own sense of self. Call it Fate or divine connection, but something deep within Seungcheol’s soul outright rejected the idea of you being harmed. In this dream, he thrashes against the hands that drag him away, screaming for you. When he looks back at you, your handler’s hand returns to your shoulder and he’s slammed with so much white-hot rage that he nearly blacks out.
The memory shifts again, and Seungcheol is falling. Frigid air whips past his face, stinging like knife cuts, yet he’s flailing about in slow motion as the snowy canyons of the Alps envelop him like a casket. Mingyu’s hoarse cries are lost among the sounds of the chugging steam train and the splash of Seungcheol’s body as it collides with an icy river, the same river that keeps him cold enough to stay alive until he’s found by Hydra scouts. His vision blinks in and out of focus, the stark-white blizzard sky being replaced by the dingy hallways of Hydra’s medical facilities, where he’s all but blinded by a huge circle of light as the surgery to remove his left arm commences. He blinks again and he’s lying on cold concrete, having had his ass handed to him by another Winter Soldier candidate. His metal arm creaks as he pushes off the ground, spitting a glob of blood and saliva against the floor before rising to face his opponent again. He’s too slow to dodge the next swing and his head hits the ground hard, his body landing with a defeated thud.
The world lurches and he feels the sensation of wet earth between his fingertips. He’s tense, waiting for the next trauma-inducing event to begin, but there’s nothing but the setting sun and the endless rows of tulips surrounding him. Amsterdam. He blinks against the fading light and stands. You’re a few feet away in tattered tactical gear covered in blood that isn’t your own, looking out over the fields of flowers with a kind of sadness that makes panic flare in Seungcheol’s chest. Of all the memories Seungcheol was bombarded with when he slept, this was the one he hated the most.
“They’re gonna put me under soon,” you whisper, your voice raspy like you’d been crying. You watch the horizon like it’s your next adversary. Not only had you slipped away from the Red Room long enough to eradicate nearly every agent under the Winter Soldier program, you’d also brought Seungcheol’s mind back to himself. You had broken a dam in his mind that Hydra had so painstakingly built, allowing the flood of memories and emotions and all the things that made Seungcheol human to come rushing back to him. “They’ll know it was me, and they won’t like what I did to you.”
“You freed me,” Seungcheol says. He wants to reach out to hold your hand, or at least brush your fingers, but that’s not the way this memory works. He didn’t do it then, so he’s tortured by the inability to do it now. “You broke whatever words they put in my head.”
“I didn’t break the words, I killed the ones who used them,” you croak, frustrated. “Someone else could come along and find that God-forsaken book with the trigger words and take control of you again, and I won’t be there to stop them, and–” A sob tears itself from your throat and he sees the same rage that he adored so much burning in your eyes. You were the only one whose anger could ever come close to matching his own. “They could make you worse because of me, and it would be my fault that they did.”
“They would have to catch me first,” Seungcheol says with grave seriousness. He knows it’s foolish for him to say, knowing damn well Hydra does capture him and put him in the cryo-tube again until they figure out how to reprogram his mind to do what they wanted him to do. “I won’t let that happen.” He does let that happen, unfortunately, as he’s lured into an abandoned nuclear facility two weeks later under the pretense that you would be there.
“I wish I knew you under different circumstances,” you scoff bitterly. “Or I wish the Red Room ripped out my brain entirely so it could never learn how to care for you so deeply.” He knows you don’t mean it to cause him pain, but his heart winces all the same. Maybe in another life, you would be the one he’d take dancing. Before the war, before the fall off the train, before everything. It would just be you and him, laughing at Mingyu’s shenanigans and dreaming about a future you didn’t know how to want.
“Do you really mean that?” When he meets your eyes, the fire behind them has dulled into tired coals.
“I do. I hope that, in another universe, we’re together…and we’re happy,” you wish, and that’s where Seungcheol’s mind cruelly refuses to play any other memories. You and the tulips fade into darkness, and he succumbs to dreamless sleep.
—
Avengers Headquarters, Upstate New York – 2025
“That’s about to be the fourth one you break this week, and it’s only Wednesday,” notes a teasing voice from the doorway of the training gym. SLAM! Your wrapped fist completes its arc into the punching bag and, just as Jihyo had predicted, the rope it hangs from gives way, sending the bag flying across the room. You pause, catching cold, dry breaths of air conditioning, before retrieving the downed bag and tossing it into the growing pile in the corner. Only then do you turn to Jihyo, who’s watching you with a clever glint in her eye.
“You shouldn’t be so far from the med-bay,” you point out and she shrugs.
“I had a concussion, not a broken spine,” she reasons. “I’m fine.” She looks fine, in most senses of the word, but guilt still weighs on your shoulder for putting her in that situation. You look at her for a few moments, still skeptical, but relent and move to hang a new bag. “Hey, aren’t you gonna ask why I’m here?”
“It better not be to spar with me. You’re supposed to be on bedrest for another three days.”
“Which I think is overkill, but agree to disagree,” she grumbles and you shoot her a look. “It’s been nine days since we captured him and I got knocked around a little bit. If I’m being honest, I’d say you’re faring worse than me.”
“How so?”
“For one, you’ve been in this gym more often than your own room, which means your sleep schedule is fucked up.”
“Sometimes I hear Seungkwan’s TV through the walls and it bothers me,” you protest. “I come here because it’s quieter.” Jihyo raises an eyebrow.
“Nayeon caught you pacing outside the containment ward even though Jihoon said you’re allowed to go in.”
“There’s a laundry room across the hall from the entrance. I was waiting for a load to finish,” you protest. The ex-Widow’s frown deepens at your blatant half-lie and she gestures to the many broken punching bags you’d sent flying in the days since recovering from the capture mission.
“You can look me in the eyes and tell me that is normal?”
“Stress appears different on everyone, Jihyo,” you conclude too carefreely and something different blinks across her face. The light frustration shifts into a muted sort of sadness, like she was purposefully dialing down her emotions to avoid upsetting you.
“You haven’t been eating meals with us. Jeongyeon, Nayeon, the rest of the girls. We miss you,” she says quietly and your shoulders slump. You drag your hand down your face.
“I know, I know. I’m sorry. I just,” you inhale, trying to find the words. “I don’t want to burden you all with my baggage. Seungcheol, he’s the last person I would expect to show up from my past, and it hurts. Seeing him like that…it hurt.” Jihyo nods.
“I get it. I felt the same seeing you in the cryotube on that last raid,” she sympathizes. You chew the inside of your cheek. “We’d heard stories about the Arachne project and how the last surviving participant had disappeared. We couldn’t have imagined we’d find you, but I’m so glad we did.” Jihyo approaches you now, taking your hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. “It’s okay for you to open up to us about how you’re feeling. You don’t have to go it alone anymore.”
“Since when did the Red Room give empathy classes?” You ask wryly and she chuckles.
“Since we broke out of their mind-control and started leaning on each other more,” Jihyo replies, nudging you with her shoulder. “We’re the only ones who will get it, you know?”
“Yeah, I know. Thank you,” you say. “I haven’t had the chance to properly–” She cuts you off with a wave of her hand.
“You don’t need to say all that. It’s just what friends do for each other,” she cuts in and you finally give her a tired smile. “Now, are you finally going to let me tell you why I came over here?”
“It wasn’t just for a motivational speech and to tell me to stop bulldozing the punching bags.” Her chuckle turns into a bark of laughter.
“That, yes, but I also came bearing news,” she shares with a sparkle in her eye. “Choi Seungcheol is awake.” Your heart stutters.
“He is?” Jihyo exhales.
“He’s awake, and he’s refusing to cooperate unless he sees you first.”
—
Casablanca – 1942
After three years of assignments in collaboration with the Winter Soldier, you’ve done something extraordinary–you’ve helped him recover some semblances of his memories.
Granted, it’s an ongoing process that brings more backtracking than it does progress. You’re not entirely sure how you did it, but somewhere during the downtime of missions, you began asking him questions just to see if he had the facilities to answer them. To your surprise, he was able to answer you almost immediately, though sometimes his expression twisted like he was trying to wrench the memory out of his brain with his bare hands. Over time, you learned small things like his hometown, his friends, and fractals of his life before becoming the Winter Soldier. Your single-sided questions gradually transformed into full conversations, and your talks helped ease the strain of being the Red Room’s most prized weapon. In another world, you could see yourself being friends with Choi Seungcheol, perhaps even something more.
Sometimes, he remembered too much.
That’s when Hydra wiped him and started from scratch.
“Are you real?” He rasps unexpectedly from beside you on the external catwalk of a shipping warehouse. Question number one. You watch him from the corner of your eye, your focus never wavering from the bustle of a ship making a stop for the night at the port. He asked the same question every time his mind returned to him, even if it was only temporarily, like it was a ritual. He had to make sure you weren’t just a figment of his imagination.
Seungcheol has been dead silent since you met with him in Budapest, the biggest indicator that Hydra had ‘wiped’ him–that is, they shocked his brain into oblivion until the only thing he could understand was his handlers’ commands. When Seungcheol didn’t talk, it meant that he couldn’t remember what he had to discuss with you, but it didn’t mean it was completely gone; it was just deeper in his psyche, and it was up to him to pull it back out.
Now it seemed, as you watched the dockworkers begin to unload the ship, he’d returned to you.
“I’m real,” you say without any noticeable emotion, as stable and neutral as you can manage.
“Are we in danger?” Question number two. On a few rare occasions, you would spend an entire mission with Winter Soldier-only, completely wiped Seungcheol, only for his true self to appear in a relatively inopportune moment (e.g. getting shot at). He described it to you as being in a dream; he knew what the mission was, where he was located, and the task he had to complete, but it was like watching it from an outside perspective. Only when he registered that you were you did he feel like he was back in control of his body.
“No, we’re not in danger,” you answer, shaking your head. Your eyes narrow on a large crate with a bright red ‘X’ painted on it. One side of the crate is the size of your entire armspan, yet the item inside was a vial no larger than your pointer finger. You didn’t know much about it beyond that, other than that the Red Room wanted it and you were tasked to grab it. “We will be soon, though. That’s our target.” You nod to the box and Seungcheol’s gaze follows it as it leaves the cargo hold and is moved in the direction of your position.
“Did–” Question number three. He swallows and you wait for him, finally turning to look as he steadies his breathing. “Did I hurt you?” You shake your head again.
“No, you did not hurt me.” Seungcheol breathes a visible sigh of relief.
“Okay.” You check your descender and practice the timing one last time in your head–you drop onto the package, Seungcheol covers you as you open the crate and retrieve the vial, then throw a smoke bomb and disappear.
“Ready?” His eyes darken over his face mask.
“Ready.”
The sensation of falling is familiar as the rope goes taut and you drop from the catwalk. The crate wobbles as you land on top of it, the dockworkers startling with a shout of alarm. As you jump down to open the package, you see their shadows reach for something to use as a weapon, but Seungcheol is already there. He’s the closest thing to a demon you’ll ever see, stalking through the darkness and downing enemies. As he takes down the last of the dockworkers near the crate, you grip the side of the wooden box, channel the strength given to you by the Red Room’s serum, and pull.
Nothing happens.
You give another strong tug, then another, then another until you realize that the side of the crate isn’t budging. You scowl. The serum had given you strength, but there were also other tradeoffs to increase your speed, agility, and enhance your senses for covert operations. For a moment, you toss around the idea of punching a hole in the crate, then realize that you risked damaging the vial inside. Before you can ask, Seungcheol is already at your side, staring at the unopened crate with you.
“It’s still closed,” he monotones and you fight the urge to roll your eyes.
“I see that,” you grumble. “Not all of us got the serum that gave us biceps the size of milk jugs.” He motions for you to back up. “Don’t you dare punch that shit.” Even under his mask, you can tell he’s staring at you incredulously.
“What do you take me for, an animal?” Yes. He thinks for a moment and shakes his head. “Don't answer that.” Seungcheol then grips the same spot that you had with his human arm and tugs. The side of the crate gives way as easily as ripping a sheet of paper, and you can’t tell whether to be mad that he got more super strength or mad that you can’t stop staring at his arm. He’d ripped off the side of a wooden crate, and he didn’t even need to use the metal arm. “There you go.”
“My knight in shining armor,” you say dryly, stepping up to observe how the vial was encased. Thankfully, it was only a few layers of anti-shock plexiglass that you remove easily, and soon the vial is safe and sound in your belt. Mission accomplished. “Let’s get out of here. You know the way?” Seungcheol nods.
“Keep close,” he says before ducking into the darkness.
You follow him through the dim-lit streets and alleys of Casablanca to the bar where you would be retrieved by your handlers. It isn’t too late in the night and there are still a generous amount of patrons around as Seungcheol opens the door to the bar, putting you in a state of unease while you slide onto a barstool. Seungcheol stands beside you in between your stool and the next, leaning against the bar with his metal arm hidden by a glove and his jacket sleeve. He’s removed his dark mask and, to any untrained eye, you look like a pair of unassuming shadows that happen to haunt the bar.
“You don’t want to sit?” You ask after Seungcheol quietly orders you an Old Fashioned, rye with extra bitters, without you needing to request a drink. He’s positioned himself between your barstool in the next, his back to the counter and his head tilted to look at you while also keeping tabs on the rest of the room. Your voice is soft, barely perceptible in the raucous noise of the bar, but Seungcheol doesn’t need to hear anything else right now.
“I’ll stand. Easier to be close to you,” he says and you hate the way it makes your heart flip. Affection and love were not something afforded to you, yet you loved to look over the edge of what it would be like to care for Seungcheol freely. “Need anything?”
“Not unless you have a Tiffany bracelet hiding in your pocket,” you say lightly and he does that same huff-laugh again. His eyes are dark but the shadow that typically hangs over them is softened in the yellowed light.
“Tiffany & Co. That’s in New York, right?”
“It is. Do you remember New York?”
“New York from before, or New York now?”
“I rarely ever ask how you remember things now, Seungcheol,” you point out and he nods, the muscle in his jaw tightening. “What do you remember about before?” He’s silent for a few moments and the space between his eyebrows pinches.
“Mingyu liked to pick up girls in the diners. Said paying for a girl’s meal was the way to get her heart,” he recalls slowly and you fight back a snort.
“He really believed that?”
“Mingyu believed a lot of things,” Seungcheol continues, “and most of them were about how to properly woo a woman.” The bartender returns with your Old Fashioned and Seungcheol only nods to him rather than paying him, a kind of silent agreement that your drink would be on the house. You don’t question it. The rye is cheap and there are a normal amount of bitters, but it’s smooth enough as it runs down your throat.
“And how do you believe you should properly woo a woman?” You posit, momentarily forgetting who you were and who he was. This was the fine line you walked, indulging that desire to be normal and flirt and want, all these things the Red Room had trained out of you.
“I don’t remember most of the things,” Seungcheol begins honestly, “but I do know that knowing how she takes her alcohol is a good start.”
“It’s an excellent start.” You smirk over the rim of your glass and fight the urge to shiver when his gloved hand brushes your lower back. The noise around you dims and you scan his face slowly, cataloging every detail of it. What draws your attention the most are his eyes, always his eyes. There was a rage that burned behind them, but it seemed to temper itself when you were near. You didn’t know what to make of it and didn’t have the words to describe it, only that you liked his rage. It matched your own, and it made you feel seen. “Want a sip?”
“Alcohol doesn’t affect us, Arachne,” Seungcheol reminds you quietly and you wave him off.
“It’s not about getting drunk. It’s about feeling normal,” you correct. He looks at you curiously.
“And alcohol, it makes you feel normal?”
“As much as I can, considering what we’ve been made into.” You shrug and he carefully takes the glass from your hand, rotating the cup so that his lips make contact at the exact spot where you had taken your sip. Your breath catches. He doesn’t break eye contact even as he takes one, long drink, swallowing like it was water and handing it back to you like he hadn’t just thrown your entire brain into a live volcano.
“Pretty good,” he murmurs. “Up to your standards?”
“I’ve had better,” you lie. You’ve never had alcohol outside of missions, and even then, you tended to fake drinking to blend in with the crowd. “Drinking with company tends to raise my mood, though.”
“Am I good company?” Your eyes sparkle.
“You’re the only company I want.” Before he can reply, movement in the darker shadows of the bar catch his attention. Half a dozen men in three-piece suits huddle together, murmuring, but their gazes remain on you for a duration that makes Seungcheol’s skin crawl. Their eyes rake hungrily over your body and his vision starts going red, his hands unconsciously clenching into fists. He imagines five different ways he could dispose of each of the men, starting with the one that just licked his lips and seemed to be preparing to approach you. “Why do you look like you’re about to kill everyone in this bar, Seungcheol?” You ask in a low tone, your voice coming much closer to his ear than previously. You’ve leaned even closer to him, the smell of your perfume intoxicating him worse than any alcohol.
“Assholes at your six,” he snarls. You gently but firmly take his cheek in your hand and pull his face to look at you.
“Why the fuck should I care about them?” His face is inches from yours, but his fiery eyes remain on the group behind you.
“You shouldn’t.” The muscle in his jaw is tense enough to cut diamonds.
“So why do you?” You inquire and Seungcheol’s face burns from something he can’t name as he finally meets your eyes.
“Because they’re looking at you like they own you. No one owns you,” he seethes, his anger boiling over. Your face remains unchanged except for the slight pinch between your eyebrows. You seem to think on his words for a moment and then nod to yourself, removing your hand from his face and downing the rest of your drink in one swallow.
“It’s stuffy here. Let’s leave,” you order suddenly and Seungcheol’s anger sobers. “We can wait for the rendezvous outside.”
“Did I say something to upset you?” You smile in a way that doesn’t reach your eyes and lace your fingers in his, tugging him toward the exit.
“No, you just say things that make me think a little too hard on things I’m not allowed to want.”
—
Avengers Headquarters, Upstate New York – 2025
You’re not sure what you’re expecting when you enter his area of the containment ward, but you’re caught off-guard all the same.
They’ve put him in a dark shirt and pants that stretches over the rippling cords of muscle you, once upon a time, could never stop staring at. Instead of a hospital bed, they’ve transferred him to a fortified metal chair with cuffs as thick as your arm holding his limbs in place. His breathing is ragged when you step into the room and he raises his head to look at you slowly, like he was moving through syrup. When his gaze falls on you, you see sparks of recognition try to come to life in his eyes.
“It’s you.” You wait just outside of the painted lines on the floor that put him in an imaginary box, remaining just out of reach. You’d been put into the cryotube before he had, so you had no idea what had happened to him in the time between you going under and him going under. What he had become in that time without you was a mystery, and there was a real chance that they had programmed him to kill you on sight. Staying out of his reach was not only for your physical safety, but also to keep you from breaking and succumbing to the urge to touch him for the first time in decades. “I know you.” You just keep staring at him, face blank and still as a statue. Your silence makes him hesitate. “Are you–are you real?” You nod stiffly.
“I’m real.” His muscles flex as he subtly tests the strength of his restraints. You pretend not to notice. “The chair’s just a safety precaution.”
“Are we in danger?”
“Not if you keep your mind,” you answer truthfully. Panic flashes across his face, like it was truly a possibility he might lose himself again. “I won’t let them take it from you again.” His eyes scan your body, narrowing on the bruises and scars left behind from the fight during his capture.
“I hurt you,” he croaks. Your heart twists. That’s not the question he’s supposed to ask.
“You were doing what you needed to survive,” you correct gently, stepping over the line on the floor and into his space. Seungcheol stills as you draw nearer until you’re on one knee in front of him, close enough to feel his ragged breath. One wrong move is all it takes for him to headbutt you into the afterlife, yet you feel no shred of fear as you shakily reach for his face. He seeks your touch almost immediately, leaning into your palm with a slump of his shoulders. “You’re with me again, and that’s what matters.” He shakes his head like he thinks you’re a hallucination and you pull away your hand.
“I don’t understand.”
“Widows infiltrated and took down the entire Red Room. They found me in the cryotube during a raid two years ago.” Your voice falters. “I’d been asleep since 1944.”
“You’ve been alone.” The ghost of a wry smile tugs at your mouth.
“For the most part, though I did have the ones who found me. Three of them helped me find you in Casablanca.” Realization hits Seungcheol like a bucket of cold water.
“The one who was bleeding, is she–”
“She’s alive. All three of them are, thanks to some well-timed bloodlust on my end that only you have the capabilities of matching,” you state dryly. It’s meant to be reassuring, but you can tell it only makes Seungcheol uneasier. “They hold no grudge against you, nor do I.”
“Maybe you should,” he murmurs. Your face hardens.
“Don’t you dare say that. Don’t you dare think I can hate the one person that understands what I am.”
“You’re not a what; you’re a person,” he grits and your chest pangs. “You have to believe that. If you don’t, how am I supposed to believe that I’m human too?”
“That’s not fair to either of us,” you whisper. “I can’t hold you together if I don’t know how to hold myself together first.”
“You’re pretty damn good at doing it without trying, Arachne,” Seungcheol says softly. “You make me human, even if you don’t see yourself as one.” He holds your gaze a moment longer and lets the tension hang like thick fog, before sighing and sitting up straight. “How long do you think until I can walk around freely?”
“Depends on how well you behave,” you reply, the corner of your mouth tugging upward. “You’ll be let go as soon as the doctors say you’re psychologically sound.”
“As in, I won’t rip out the throats of everyone who breathes in my vicinity,” he deadpans and you nod. “Got it.”
“I’ll come again in a few hours.” You stand to leave, your legs still slightly sore from the fight during his capture, but Seungcheol rasps your name with a strangled, panicked cry.
“Wait. Please don’t go. Not yet.” You still, staring down at a man you’ve stood beside–killed beside–as he’s begging you to stay for the sake of his own sanity. “Can you stay a little longer?”
“Seungcheol, you need rest,” you insist.
“Please. Just for a bit.” You exhale and nod. His shoulders drop in relief.
You snap after Hydra wipes Seungcheol’s mind for the eighth time.
It’d taken him three days for him to even show some semblance of recognizing you, and five more hours of reconnaissance for him to fully remember what you were, who you were. He’d broken out of his trance with a violent thrash, collapsing against the wall with such force that it cracked. You sat on the floor with him, his face in your hands as you forced him to look at you, for what seemed like forever until he finally won over whatever Hydra put in his mind this time. By the time it was over, you were both drenched in sweat and shaking like leaves in the wind. For the first time since you’d known him, the fire in Seungcheol’s eyes was nearly gone, replaced by something broken and tired.
It made you want to burn the world to the ground.
He knew what you planned to do, at least some semblance of it; part of you was grateful that he didn’t offer to help you, nor did he try to stop you. You understood each other’s rage, and the only way for you to channel it was to seek vengeance against the only person you cared about.
Logistically, there was always a period of up to twelve hours after you requested extraction from a mission, enough time for you to track the coordinates Seungcheol had given you and slip into the Winter Soldier Project’s base of operations. You beeline for the security room, dispose of the guards as easily as blinking, and lock every door in the facility before cutting the power completely. The base falls into complete darkness and you bypass turning on the emergency lights. Your eyes, enhanced by the Red Room’s serum that made your night vision akin to a cat’s, adjust immediately and you let the familiar silence of darkness wrap around you like a security blanket. A low siren indicating a security breach echoes against the concrete walls, and you stalk into the void with knives in your hands and your gun locked in its holster.
You don’t fire a single shot that night. Every soul that you send to the underworld dies by your hands or the blades in them as proof of your rage and to feed the carnal need for blood that roared every time you remember what they did to Seungcheol. The scientists and doctors are easy enough, as are the handlers. The other test subjects that received the serum prove to be a challenge, but they aren’t trained to fight in darkness as well as you are. Their serum also does not make their eyes as strong as yours, so they sacrifice power for accuracy that never lands. In less than an hour, every Hydra agent in the facility is on the floor and your boots are slick with blood. After the last body hits the ground, you breathe in the copper-tasting air. You don’t regret it, not a single kill, and soon enough you’ve nabbed a truck and started on the road for Amsterdam.
—
Seungcheol is wary of almost everything in this new age, but there are three things he knows for certain. One, that the food he eats for breakfast alone is miles better than whatever he was eating a century ago. Two, that cars of this era can go faster than he could even blink. Three, that you are just as much of an anchor as you were before you said goodbye in that goddamn tulip field.
“Earth to Seungcheol, hello? Are you reading?” You say with a tilt of your head, lightly tapping his temple with your finger. It’s been a few months since you’d found him in Casablanca and everyday feels more reassuring than the last. In the soft sunlight of the Avengers compound common area, you look almost at peace, a stark contrast to how Seungcheol normally saw you. You’re a completely different person now that the Red Room isn’t breathing down your neck, and it slowly encourages him to bring his guards down as well. His stiff, awkward interactions with the other former Widows has evolved into some interesting conversations that don’t require your patient mediation. It isn’t abnormal for people to see you together like this, you with a computer or a notebook scribbling down whatever your next mission is, and the former Winter Soldier just sitting beside you, like there was nowhere else he’d rather be.
“I don’t have a book with me, how could I be reading?” He frowns and you smile. The act alone makes his heart trip over itself.
“It’s just an expression. Instead of reading books, you’re reading signals, like how the space people did when humans went to the moon,” you explain and his confusion deepens.
“Space people as in aliens, or…?”
“The people controlling the spaceship,” you laugh. “The ones making sure it didn’t crash and burn on national television.”
“Right. Television. That’s a thing now.” He scrunches his eyes shut and drags his metal hand down his face, a new Vibranium-reinforced appendage that you’d called in a favor for after Seungcheol began complaining that his old one was creaking. “How’d you do this alone? Adjust to an entirely different world?” You pause, your pencil hovering over the page of your notebook.
“It was hard at first,” you admit. “But it got easier when I realized that nothing ever really changes, it just evolves. The bones of everything I knew are still there, but they just look different.” An idea lights up in Seungcheol’s mind.
“Are you able to find information about places on that thing?” He asks, nodding at your laptop. Your face pinches like you’re fighting a laugh and he gives you a pointed look.
“I didn’t say anything!” You protest with your hands raised in surrender.
“You didn’t need to. I could hear you laughing at my cluelessness in your head from over here,” he shoots back with no malice. “Can you just–can you look up a restaurant downtown? Darling Diner.” You shrug and your fingers clack against the keyboard. Your eyebrows draw together and you lean closer to the screen, clicking around for an amount of time that makes Seungcheol feel embarrassed that he even asked. “It’s probably dead now, sorry for making you–”
“It’s still open,” you interrupt, surprised. “‘The original Darling Diner, serving New York since 1928.’ Is that the one?” He leans over to you and you turn the screen to face him. The exterior color is changed and the neon sign is in a different font, but the building is the exact same as the one where he and Mingyu used to go after school.
“Holy shit. That’s the one,” Seungcheol mutters. “I can’t believe it’s still around.”
“Did you frequent it often?” Seungcheol chuckles.
“Often? Mingyu and I were there every day of the week. All the staff knew us by name, even tried to set us up with their daughters.” An amused glint shines in your eye.
“Oh? Do tell about all the girls you’ve romanced at this diner,” you tease and Seungcheol stutters, his face suddenly hot. He swallows and the silence makes you stifle a snort, another sound that he’s never heard before but would never tire of hearing. “I’m kidding, I promise. You’ve told me all about the times you’ve third-wheeled Mingyu’s dates.”
“Yeah, that jackass always made me take a walk up and down the street when he wanted to give the girls a kiss goodnight,” he reminisces.
“Jesus, how many girls was he kissing?”
“I lost track after the fifteenth.” He shrugs and you both burst out laughing until your stomachs hurt. When the giggles die down, Seungcheol takes a deep breath and steels his nerves. “Does it…does it say when the diner closes?” You blink and scroll around a bit before nodding.
“1:00 in the morning, every day,” you reply. “Why?”
“Do you have any dinner plans?” Seungcheol asks and you try not to look too excited.
“I do not.”
“Would you let me take you out to dinner then? I can tell you if the quality is as good as I remember it being.” Your smile is brighter than every star combined.
“I would love to.”
A few hours later, you’re tucked into a well-worn leather booth scarfing down a plate of food as large as your head. The sun is giving its final bows and the diner is humming with hushed conversation amidst the soft clatter of pots and pans from the kitchen. Seungcheol has regaled you with at least six new stories about his escapades with Mingyu before they enlisted, and for a minute you let yourself imagine that this was a normal life. You were on a normal date with a normal guy (with a totally normal arm) in a normal diner on a normal night. Normal. How odd.
“Where’d you go?” He asks as the waitress in a grease-stained apron clears your entree plates from the table. You blink back to the present and try to ignore the way Seungcheol’s arms are flexing under the sleeves of his henley shirt. You offer an apologetic smile.
“Sorry, I’m not sure. I guess I got too caught up in the moment.” You fidget with a crumpled straw wrapper, if only to not get flustered by Seungcheol’s unwavering attention. “I like this. Being with you.” He nods almost solemnly.
“I do too.”
“I’m half-expecting someone to barge in and try to recapture us,” you chuckle dryly, though you’re not entirely kidding.
“Is that why you keep glancing at the door like we’re still on the run?” Seungcheol gently questions.
“A habit I can’t shake, unfortunately,” you sigh. “Nayeon calls it ‘the white rabbit’ theory.”
“Like from that book about the girl who smokes with a caterpillar?”
“Among other things, yes,” you snort. “It’s essentially a fear that whenever something feels too good, something bad comes along to ruin it. The white rabbit gets you, is what she says. I guess I’m…I’m waiting for the rabbit to come through the door.” Seungcheol is quiet as he digests what you’ve shared with him. Then, slowly as to give you time to pull away, he reaches for your hand. You let him take your fingers in his and run his thumb over your bruised knuckles, an act so delicate that you forget to breathe. The rest of the diner falls away until it’s just you and him in the dingy yellow light, holding on to a moment that isn’t as fragile as you think it is.
“If the rabbit comes in, I’ll shoot him,” Seungcheol mumbles after a while. You choke on a surprised laugh that falters when you see the grave seriousness etched into his features. “I’m serious.” He thinks back to Amsterdam, to the suppressed panic you were trying to hide from him in that fucking tulip field, and how he let you go without so much as lifting a finger. He could have done more to protect you. He should have done more. “I’ll die before I ever let someone take you away again,” he promises and your eyes start watering unexpectedly. You swallow thickly and nod, not trusting your voice to remain steady.
The waitress arrives with a single strawberry milkshake like a car horn on a quiet street, making both you and Seungcheol startle and swear colorfully under your breaths. She tosses two more straws onto the table and leaves without another word. You both share a look as you stifle your laughter, the moment effectively ended but not broken.
“Damn, maybe the real rabbit was our waitress,” you joke and Seungcheol makes a noise from his throat that sounds vaguely like a chuckle. “A little cliché, isn’t it? Sharing a milkshake with two straws?” You unwrap both and stick them on either side of the glass.
“You say cliché, but I remember it as Mingyu’s special closer,” replies Seungcheol. You lean in and take a sip and he does the same, your noses nearly brushing. “Good?”
“Delicious,” you whisper. His eyes dart to the corner of your lips and his thumb wipes your mouth without thinking. You don’t stiffen, but he does halfway through the action, pulling away abruptly like he’d been caught doing something wrong.
“Sorry, you had a…something on your face.” Your eyes are too knowing and he flushes under your gaze.
“It’s okay, I didn’t mind.” Your voice lowers and you lean forward over the glass again so close that Seungcheol can count the different flecks of color in your eyes. “Though you could also just kiss me next time that happens,” you murmur with a clever smile. “Unless that was also part of the Mingyu Special, in which case I don’t really want to–”
“I get the point, sweetheart.” Your teasing is cut off by Seungcheol closing the distance and softly placing his lips on yours, like you would explode if he moved too suddenly. He feels you smile against the kiss, though it might’ve been because he was smiling first. You hum and pull away just enough to nudge his nose with yours, the milkshake between you forgotten. “You taste like strawberries,” he grins.
“Is that okay?”
“More than,” he confirms. “I like kissing you.” He hesitates before speaking again. “I…I like you.” Your joy falters.
“I’m not the easiest person to be with, Seungcheol,” you remind him uneasily.
“I don’t need you to be easy,” he murmurs. “I just need you.”
“And if I prove to be too much trouble?” Seungcheol shakes his head adamantly.
“You said it yourself. I’m the one who’s made to match you. I’m asking you to let me.” You search his face but find nothing but conviction and raw determination.
“You’re sure about this? About me?”
“If I wasn’t, you’d have never been able to break me from Hydra’s control,” he says and the tiniest part of you starts to believe him.
“As long as you don’t let the white rabbit get me,” you caution with a poorly-hidden smile. “Now c’mon, let’s finish this and get out of here. Jihoon’s car isn’t gonna speed itself.”
—
Casablanca – 2026
“We really should stop meeting like this,” jokes an all-too-familiar voice over your shoulder as you watch the waters of the port shine in the early afternoon sunlight. You push your sunglasses up onto the top of your head and turn to look at Seungcheol as he approaches, looking too good for someone who was just on a flight for over twelve hours. When he’s close enough, you loop your fingers until the belt loops of his pants and tug him to kiss you. You hum in contentment when his hands immediately position themselves on your hips. “Someone’s happy to see me.”
“Mmm, I know you like when I’m clingy,” you reply and he shrugs.
“I plead the fifth. Sorry I’m late.”
“You’re right on time,” you reassure him. “They’re about to engage.” Seungcheol’s stomach turns uneasily.
“You’re sure they’re okay to take this on their own?”
“They’ll be fine. They’ve been training together for months. It’s about time they did a mission on their own.” You grab the earpiece case from your pocket and pop one into Seungcheol’s, connecting him into the comms system as the two trainees take their places. “Ant-Man, Spiderman, confirm positions.”
“I am in a position,” replies Seokmin through crackled static. “Not sure if it’s the right one.” Seungcheol gives you a skeptical look and you wave him off. You’re starting to feel relieved that you didn’t assign them a night mission as their first job. “You don’t happen to know where my extra vial of Pym particles are, do you?”
“You won’t need any more than you usually use during training, so just be smart with how you shrink. It’s just like the training simulations,” you explain patiently. Seungcheol has begun pacing back and forth and checking the magazine of his guns.
“Am I allowed to use web-bombs on this mission?” Hansol inquires and you pinch the bridge of your nose. “Also I’m in position. I have no idea where Seokmin is.”
“You can use web-bombs sparingly. Be sure to call out when you’re going to use them, since you tend to get Seokmin caught in the crossfire as he’s shrinking and growing.”
“Wait! If I go gigantic, you’ll be able to find me!” Seokmin proposes with too much enthusiasm.
“Do not go gigantic, Ant-Man. I repeat, do not go gigantic,” Seungcheol commands.
“I didn’t know Seungcheol was supervising us too,” mumbles Hansol a little indignantly. “Pressure’s on, I guess.”
“Wow, scary!” Seokmin adds. “The most terrifying Avengers making sure we don’t mess up. I guess I can’t be funny today.”
“No, be funny,” Hansol frowns. “It makes this more fun.”
“Your mission is to identify the contents of a shipping container. Where the fun lies in that, I’m not sure,” Seungcheol states incredulously. He presses a button on the earpiece to mute his microphone and turns to you. “Are you sure we shouldn’t just handle this? We could be in and out in under five minutes.” You shake your head and squeeze his hand.
“The Winter Soldier and Arachne are here as backup. We don’t need to be scary on this job; we need to be mentors,” you remind him gently. “Trust me, I’m just as nervous for this mission as you are.”
“I doubt that,” Seungcheol laments and you chuckle. Your smile drops suddenly when five different shipping containers fall over with loud metallic crashes as Seokmin’s Ant-Man suit grows to become as tall as the cranes. Swinging on his arms and throwing web-bombs like no tomorrow is Hansol, and the dockworkers are running about in a state of panic. The targeted container is nowhere in sight, and half of Seokmin’s leg is now in the water. You and Seungcheol share a look and sigh. “Well, shit.”
“So much for subtlety,” you agree, unhurriedly pulling your batons from their sheaths on your thighs. Seungcheol dons his black mask and pulls the detachable sleeve away from his Vibranium arm. “I could use an Old Fashioned after this.”
“Rye, extra bitters,” he continues. The corner of your mouth turns down when you realize you’ve misplaced a knife on your belt, and Seungcheol is quick to hand you one of his. “Maybe I’ll give it a try today. Seems like a drinking kind of night, if we survive this.”
“This is easily survivable compared to what we’ve done in the past,” you scoff, adding the knife to your array and stretching your neck from side to side.
“Sorry, I mean the press conference that’s gonna come our way once the press hears that Ant-Man got half his foot stuck in a crane,” corrects Seungcheol and you shrug.
“Just another day, isn’t it?” You smile at him and he winks at you.
“Guess so.” He cracks his human knuckles.
“Got my six?”
“You know it.”
“Great,” you grin, pressing one more kiss to his cheek. “Let’s clean up their mess.”
in case you didn't know: reblogging is the best way to support your favorite authors! if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi!
Blurred lines ❀ | secret admirer au × college au × fluff × angst × 13,5k
Boun & Prem:.
Between you and me | actor au × enemies to on-screen lovers au × 9,6k
Bible:.
Hard pill to swallow | spy au × assassin au × mafia au × drabble × 1,3k × blood, violence and death
Dunk:.
Unscripted | meet-cute × 2k
Jinjin:.
The h(a)unted | median au × fluff × angst × 3k
Eunwoo:.
Baby, we’re more alike than you think | rich kid au × college au × 1,4k × bullying
Faded connection | soulmate au × college au × angst × 9,1k × mention of death and depression
San:.
Prince in disguise | royalty au × fluff × 7,9k × mention of a break-in
Wooyoung:.
There are plenty of (cat)fish in the sea | enemies to lovers au × college au × catfish au × humour × drabble × 1,1k
Namjoon:.
A story by the campfire ❀ | horror × 4,2k × blood, violence and death
Seokjin:.
Train to Anyang ❀ | soulmate au × angst × 4,6k
Little red | little red riding hood au × werewolf au × horror × dark fairy tale × 7,1k × blood, violence and death
Yoongi:.
His life for a date | hitman au × action × drabble × 1,5k × blood
Hoseok:.
Merry Mourning! ❀ | romeo and juliet au × angst × 4,2k × blood and death
Valentine’s date | fluff × drabble × 1,1k
Taehyung:.
All for nothing ❀ | demon au × fantasy × angst × 17,6k × blood and death
Jungkook:.
Linked pt.7 | collaboration × college au × fluff × drabble × 0,8k
Sea of Japan | fluff × drabble × 0,5k
From five minutes to infinity | fluff × 2,4k
Was meeting you fate? | fake soulmate au × slice of life × 7,9k
OT7:.
The Mandela effect ❀ | collaboration × series × parallel universe au × angst × fluff × 23,4k × blood, violence, mention of suicide, mild smut, death and emotional manipulation
CODE Z3RO ❀ | collaboration × series × futuristic au × thriller × 60k × (lots of) death, murder (attempt), blood, emotional manipulation, brief descriptions of depression and PTSD
Kim Kimhan:.
Love is a powerful weapon; learn to wield it | fantasy kingdom au × guardian spirits au × drabble × 1,8k × violence, blood and death
King Kunakorn & Uea Anon:.
Northern lights | series × ao3 × bed friend au × road trip au × runaway groom au × 59,3k × harrasment, domestic violence, child abuse
Younghyun:.
A dumb thing to do | angst × fluff × 22k × bad language and blood
Hearts never break the same | angst × drabble × 1,2k
Wonpil:.
Beats of our hearts | college au × fluff × 6,1k × tipsy people
Jinhwan:.
A selfless gesture | college au × fluff × slice of life × 2k
Bobby:.
Wanna keep you close | fluff × angst × best friends to almost lovers × drabble × 1,1k
Kihyun:.
Off the beaten path ❀ | horror × 4k × violence and death
Mark:.
Relationship status: taken | soulmate au × college au × 18,4k
Renjun:.
Candle light | supernatural au × horror × 2,2k × death
The choices you give » The choices he makes ❀ | assassin au × fantasy × 22k × blood and death
Jeno:.
Bye my first | royalty au × arranged marriage au × drabble × 1,7k × blood and death
You can call me villain, whatever, it’s fine ❀ | villain au × dystopian au × 2,1k × psychological abuse, mention of murder, violence and helplessness
Haechan:.
Stupid but mine | percy jackson au × drabble × 1,6k × mention of blood and violence
Chenle:.
Uncharted waters | royalty au × greek gods au × the little mermaid au × horror × 6,2k × violence and death
Theo:.
I look at you like you’re perfect for me | dark fantasy au × soulmate au × 11,2k × mention of blood, violence and death, manipulation, slight mention of self-hatred
Jiung:.
Paying the price | the devil judge au × dystopian au × angst × 15,3k × graphic description of damaged corpses, mention of blood and violence, vomiting, major character’s death, spoilers
Irene:.
Little red | little red riding hood au × werewolf au × horror × dark fairy tale × 7,1k × blood, violence and death
OT5:.
CODE Z3RO ❀ | collaboration × series × futuristic au × thriller × 60k × (lots of) death, murder (attempt), blood, emotional manipulation, brief descriptions of depression and PTSD
Jeonghan:.
Habit | enemies to lovers au × 2,1k
Hoshi:.
Happy ending » Sometimes love just isn’t enough | star-crossed lovers au × fluff × angst × drabble × 2,8k
All the wounds you healed (and all the pain you caused) ❀ | soulmate au × angst × fluff × 11,6k × low self-esteem, anxiety, neglection and depression
OT13:.
13 reasons why ❀ | series × coffee shop au × fluff × 138,4k
Dean:.
It’s like Russian Roulette ❀ | bonnie and clyde au × soulmate au × angst × action × 5,7k × bad language, blood and death
Xukun:.
I need a doctor | friends to lovers au × fluff × drabble × 1,2k
It’s always a delight to CU | meet-cute × strangers to lovers au × drabble × 1,6k
Park Jihoon:.
Twisted beauty | beauty and the beast au × angst × 8,4k × mention of self-harm and self-hatred
Bang Chan:.
Sassy muse on board | first encounter au × humour × 2,8k
Lee Know:.
There is always something good | dancer au × slice of life × 3,3k
Never the right time | attack on titan au × soldier au × drabble × 1,1k × physical fight, brief mention of death
Hyunjin:.
Come hell or high water ❀ | collaboration × troi au × royalty au × humour × 16,1k × blood and death
Sangyeon:.
Kingdom come | historical au × star-crossed lovers au × angst × drabble × 1,2k
Hyunjae:.
Too busy being yours | college au × fluff × drabble × 1,3k
Changmin:.
Break your rules | shadowhunters au × enemies to friends au × 7,7k × blood and death
Yeonjun:.
A blessing in disguise ❀ | college au × fluff × humour × 7,6k
Innocent as doves | historical au × angst × 15,1k × sexual harassment, character’s death, mention of blood and violence
Beomgyu:.
In the name of love | college au × greek gods au × angst × 5,9k × blood and death
Taehyun:.
A latte awkward around you | barista au × college au × fluff × humour × drabble × 0,9k
Three magical words | soulmate au × friends to lovers au × 6,2k
OT5:.
To save a kingdom | series × elementals au × fantasy × 26,1k × blood and death
Seungyoun:.
Lovesickness, smoothies, and nausea | college au × humour × 2,1k
Yibo:.
Secrets written in crimson ink | dystopian au × 2,4k × blood, violence and death
Ten:.
In your dreams | dreamer cycle au × drabble × 1,9k × death
Mino:.
Aiming at your heart | best friends au × slice of life × fluff × drabble × 0,8k
Years of almosts, lingering looks, unfinished conversations—everything between Iseul Kim and Mingyu had been building quietly, stubbornly, like something neither of them could fully control.
And the worst part?
Everyone else could see it too.
—
It started with rumors.
Small at first.
Fans noticed patterns—backgrounds in photos, the same studio corners, the same late-night city views. A glass of iced coffee on Mingyu’s post that matched one Iseul had uploaded hours earlier. A reflection in a window. A song credit that appeared a little too conveniently.
Then came the threads.
“Am I the only one seeing this?” “They’re in the same place again.” “This is not coincidence anymore.”
Even casual fans started connecting dots.
Staff? They were worse.
“They’re not even trying to hide it,” one manager muttered once, watching Mingyu scroll through his phone with a soft smile that only ever showed up when her name appeared.
Because Mingyu wasn’t subtle.
Not really.
He’d never confirm anything—but he didn’t deny it either.
If anything, he leaned into it.
A photo with a caption that mirrored her lyrics.
A location tag posted minutes after she left.
A hoodie that suspiciously looked like one she wore in a studio vlog.
And every time, the internet exploded.
—
Iseul hated it.
Not because she was ashamed.
But because she knew what it could cost him.
“You need to stop,” she told him one night, arms crossed, her voice low but firm.
They were in her studio—dim lights, unfinished tracks playing softly in the background.
Mingyu leaned against the table, watching her like she was the only thing in the room.
“I’m not doing anything wrong,” he said.
“You’re feeding it,” she snapped. “You’re an idol, Mingyu. You don’t get to act like this doesn’t affect you.”
His jaw tightened.
“And you don’t get to act like I don’t mean anything either.”
The room fell silent.
Because that was the real issue.
Not the rumors.
Not the fans.
Them.
—
She had tried to keep her distance.
Tried to stay professional. Careful. Controlled.
But Mingyu?
Mingyu had never been good at holding back when it came to her.
It showed in the way he looked at her—too long, too openly.
The way his mood shifted depending on her attention.
The way he got quiet when other people got too close to her.
Jealousy didn’t look loud on Mingyu.
It looked controlled.
Tense.
Like something he was constantly holding in.
—
“You smiled like that at him earlier.”
It was such a small comment.
But it wasn’t casual.
They were backstage at an event, tucked away in a corner where no one would easily see them.
Iseul sighed. “He’s a colleague.”
“And I’m what?”
She turned to him then—and for a moment, her composure slipped.
Because there it was again.
That look.
Not playful. Not flirty.
Something deeper.
Something that had been growing for years.
“…You know what you are,” she said quietly.
“Then say it.”
He stepped closer.
Not aggressively.
But with intention.
Like he wasn’t going to let her avoid it this time.
—
That was the problem.
She had been avoiding it.
For too long.
—
The breaking point didn’t come from one thing.
It came from everything.
Rumors getting louder.
Fans getting bolder.
Staff watching them like an open secret.
And Mingyu—
Getting harder to ignore.
Harder to push away.
Harder to pretend didn’t matter.
—
“I think we should stop.”
The words felt wrong the moment she said them.
They were in her apartment this time—no cameras, no staff, no noise. Just the two of them.
Mingyu didn’t react immediately.
Which was worse.
“…Stop what?” he asked quietly.
“This—whatever this is,” she said, her voice tightening. “Before it turns into something we can’t control.”
A pause.
Then—
“I’m already there.”
Her breath caught.
Mingyu stepped closer, slower this time.
Careful.
Deliberate.
“I’ve been there,” he continued, his voice lower now, steadier. “You think this is just rumors to me? Just some game?”
“No—”
“Then don’t ask me to walk away from it like it’s nothing.”
—
She should have held her ground.
She had every reason to.
His career.
Her reputation.
The pressure.
The risk.
—
But when he looked at her like that—
Like she was something he had chosen, fully, completely, without hesitation—
Her resolve started to crack.
—
“I’m tired,” she admitted finally, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Of hiding. Of thinking. Of pretending this doesn’t matter.”
Mingyu didn’t say anything.
He just watched her.
Waiting.
Like he always did.
—
And then—
“Then don’t hide,” he said softly.
“Stay.”
Not a demand.
Not a command.
But something stronger.
A choice.
—
That was the moment everything changed.
Not because it was dramatic.
But because it was honest.
Raw.
Unavoidable.
—
When she finally closed the distance between them, it wasn’t rushed.
It wasn’t reckless.
It was something that had been held back for far too long finally being allowed to exist.
Mingyu’s hands were careful at first—like he was giving her time to pull away.
She didn’t.
And that was all it took.
—
From that night on, nothing was simple anymore.
They were still careful.
Still private.
Still hidden.
But no longer uncertain.
—
The rumors didn’t stop.
If anything, they got louder.
Because now—
Mingyu didn’t just look at her like he wanted her attention.
He looked at her like he already had it.
—
And Iseul?
For someone who had always been composed, controlled, untouchable—
She found herself struggling in a completely different way.
By 2016, the industry no longer whispered Iseul Kim’s name.
It carried it.
What used to be a quiet girl with a notebook had turned into something almost untouchable—her work echoing through charts, radio stations, and trainee practice rooms. Songs tied to BigHit Entertainment’s rising group BTS and even contributions circulating around TWICE had built her reputation into something larger than life.
So when Seventeen—now officially debuted under Pledis Entertainment—found themselves back in a broadcast station hallway, no one expected her to walk in.
The green room door slid open.
And there she was.
Iseul Kim didn’t look like the 18-year-old they once knew.
She felt different.
There was a quiet authority in the way she carried herself—effortless, composed, almost untouchable. Her presence didn’t demand attention.
It pulled it.
For a moment, no one moved.
Not Seungcheol, not Jeonghan, not even Hoshi.
And definitely not Mingyu.
Because the thought hit all of them at the same time:
What if she doesn’t remember us?
They had changed too. They weren’t trainees anymore. They had debuted. They had fans. A name.
But standing in front of her, it suddenly felt… small.
Then—
“I missed you guys.”
Just like that.
No hesitation. No distance.
Iseul smiled, walking straight past the stunned group—and pulled Seungkwan into a tight hug.
“You still talk too much?” she teased softly.
“Yah—noona!” Seungkwan laughed, already clinging to her like no time had passed.
Before anyone could process it, she turned and hugged Joshua just as warmly.
“You’ve gotten even gentler,” she said, her voice fond.
Joshua smiled—soft, familiar.
Like this wasn’t a reunion.
Like it was just another day.
—
And the rest of them?
They stood there.
Watching.
Something sharp twisted quietly in Mingyu’s chest.
It was unfamiliar.
Uncomfortable.
Because for the first time, he realized—
He wanted that.
Not just her attention.
That closeness.
That ease.
That way she looked at Seungkwan like he mattered.
Mingyu swallowed, jaw tightening slightly as his eyes followed every movement she made.
Wonwoo noticed.
Of course he did.
He didn’t say anything—but his gaze flickered between Mingyu and Iseul, already piecing things together.
Woozi crossed his arms, expression unreadable.
Hoshi shifted awkwardly.
Seungcheol just watched.
Always watching.
—
“I remember all of you,” Iseul added, finally turning back to the group.
And when her eyes landed on Mingyu—
She paused.
Just for a second.
“You got taller.”
Simple.
Casual.
But it hit harder than it should have.
Mingyu blinked, caught off guard.
“…You remember that?”
A small smile tugged at her lips.
“I remember everything.”
And somehow, that made it worse.
—
That day passed quickly.
Schedules. Greetings. Polite conversations.
But something had changed.
For all of them.
Especially Mingyu.
—
By 2019, everyone knew.
Not officially.
Not publicly.
But everyone knew.
Mingyu—the confident, charming, effortlessly flirty visual—became… different around Iseul.
Quieter.
More careful.
Almost shy.
It started small.
Lingering glances during award shows.
Subtle attempts to be in the same room.
Taking just a second longer to respond when she spoke.
Fans noticed first.
Staff noticed faster.
His members?
They had known for years.
“Just talk to her,” Hoshi muttered once, half-annoyed, half-amused.
“You’re literally friends with her friends.”
Seungkwan snorted. “You were there before us, remember?”
Mingyu didn’t answer.
Because they didn’t understand.
Or maybe they did—and that made it worse.
—
It wasn’t just a crush.
It hadn’t been for a long time.
Somewhere between 2013 and 2016…
Something in him had rooted itself too deeply.
He followed her work. Every credit. Every release.
He knew which songs were hers without checking.
He knew her patterns.
Her sound.
Her silence.
And the more he learned, the further away she seemed.
Not because she pushed him away.
But because she kept rising.
And he—
Stayed watching.
—
“Use your connections,” one staff member joked once.
“You’re close with Seungkwan. Joshua too.”
Even fans started encouraging it.
“Step up your game, Mingyu.” “You flirt with everyone else—why not her?”
They laughed.
Because they thought it was simple.
Because they thought it was him.
But Mingyu just smiled it off.
Because this wasn’t the kind of thing you approached casually.
Not when it felt like this.
Not when—
He was already too deep.
—
The truth?
He didn’t just want her attention anymore.
He wanted to be part of her world.
To be someone she looked for first.
To be someone she chose.
And that scared him more than anything.
Because for someone who was used to being wanted—
Wanting someone this much felt dangerously close to losing control.
—
Across the room, Iseul laughed at something Seungkwan said.
2013 felt like a blur of fluorescent practice rooms, shaky camera angles, and dreams that were still too fragile to say out loud.
When BigHit Entertainment quietly assigned Iseul Kim as a behind-the-scenes producer for a small collaborative project with trainees from Pledis Entertainment, no one thought much of it. She was just “staff”—an 18-year-old girl with a notebook always tucked under her arm and headphones hanging around her neck.
So when she appeared during early episodes of Seventeen TV, specifically the “Finding Musical Friends” segment, viewers didn’t even get a proper introduction. No name tag. No title.
Just… her.
At first, it was subtle.
A quick pan of the camera catching her laughing at something Seungkwan said. A few seconds of her quietly watching Hoshi lead choreography. A blurry frame where she handed a water bottle to Mingyu.
But fans noticed.
They always do.
“Who’s the girl in the back?” “Why is she always there?” “She looks important???”
Comments started flooding in. Viewer numbers ticked higher with every episode. The production team caught on quickly—every time Iseul appeared, engagement spiked.
So the PD made a quiet decision:
“Keep the camera on her.”
Not obvious. Never obvious. Just enough.
A second longer. A softer zoom. A casual pan.
And suddenly, she was everywhere—without ever trying to be.
—
The boys noticed too.
Not the cameras.
Her.
At first, it was curiosity.
Wonwoo was the first to realize it. He’d catch glimpses of her scribbling something in her notebook during rehearsals—always focused, always distant, like she was hearing music no one else could.
Woozi noticed next. As someone obsessed with songwriting, it bothered him—how someone so quiet carried herself like she knew exactly what she was doing.
Then came Seungcheol.
He didn’t say anything. But his eyes followed her every time she walked into the room.
And Hoshi?
Hoshi was obvious.
“Why is she always watching us?” he whispered once.
Mingyu just shrugged.
But his gaze lingered longer than it should.
—
Weeks passed.
And then came the turning point.
It was during a casual vocal session. Nothing official—just trainees messing around, trying to improve.
Someone dared her to sing.
At first, she refused.
Then she sighed, set her notebook down, and stood up.
No mic. No preparation.
Just her voice.
It wasn’t just good.
It was the kind of voice that made the room go still.
Clear. Controlled. Emotional in a way that didn’t feel practiced—it felt lived in.
Before anyone could process it, she switched.
Rap.
Sharp. Precise. Effortless.
Like she had been doing this far longer than any of them.
Silence followed.
And something shifted.
What was once curiosity turned into something deeper.
Respect.
Admiration.
And for some…
Something dangerously close to falling.
—
By Week 8, the boys had already lost.
They just didn’t say it out loud.
That day, they were scheduled to visit a studio as part of their debut preparation—songwriting practice, composition drills, the usual grind.
They expected empty equipment.
Quiet.
Focus.
Instead, they found her.
Sitting alone.
Electric guitar resting against her thigh. Fingers moving effortlessly along the fretboard. A half-built beat looped softly from the speakers.
She didn’t notice them at first.
Too immersed.
Humming under her breath as she scribbled lyrics into her notebook, pausing only to adjust the melody.
Woozi froze.
That wasn’t beginner work.
That wasn’t “staff.”
That was an artist.
A real one.
Mingyu leaned closer to Wonwoo, whispering, “She made that?”
Wonwoo didn’t answer.
He was too busy watching her like he’d just discovered something rare.
Hoshi, for once, didn’t move.
Seungcheol stepped forward slightly—but stopped.
Because in that moment, interrupting her felt wrong.
Like breaking a spell.
—
Then she looked up.
And everything shattered.
“Oh—” she blinked, surprised. “You’re here early.”
Like it was normal.
Like she wasn’t sitting in front of a fully self-produced track.
Like she hadn’t just rewritten everything they thought they knew about her.
Woozi spoke first.
“…You made that?”
She hesitated.
Then shrugged.
“Yeah. Just practicing.”
Just.
Practicing.
That word hit harder than anything.
—
From that day on, nothing was the same.
Because now they knew.
Iseul Kim wasn’t just the quiet girl in the background.
She was one of them.
No—she was someone they wanted to catch up to.
And maybe…
Someone they wanted to impress.
Mingyu started staying longer in practice rooms.
Wonwoo asked more questions about songwriting.
Woozi pushed himself harder—quietly, stubbornly.
Hoshi tried to make her laugh more.
Seungcheol?
He watched.
Always watching.
But now, there was intent behind it.
—
The cameras kept rolling.
The viewers kept asking.
“Who is she?”
But behind the scenes, the real story wasn’t just about a mysterious girl gaining attention.
It was about five boys—
slowly, helplessly—
falling for someone they hadn’t even fully understood yet.
Iseul Kim wasn’t supposed to be part of that shoot.
Back in 2013, BigHit Entertainment was still finding its footing, and so was she—a trainee who spent more nights in the studio than in her own bed. Producing came naturally to her, melodies threading through her thoughts like second nature. Singing? That was just the bonus.
When the opportunity came to observe a collaborative project called Musical Friends, she thought she’d be standing quietly behind the cameras, notebook in hand, soaking everything in.
Instead, she got pulled in.
The set buzzed with chaotic energy—thirteen boys from a self-producing group called SEVENTEEN, all loud voices and overlapping jokes. Iseul stood awkwardly near the edge, clutching her notebook, until one of them spotted her.
“Are you part of the staff?” a boy with sharp eyes and an easy grin asked.
Before she could answer, another chimed in, “No way, she looks like an artist.”
That was how she met them.
She was officially added as a “special participant,” though it felt more like she had been adopted into the chaos.
Her team?
Seungkwan, Hoshi, Mingyu, Seungcheol, Wonwoo, and Woozi.
A mix of loud and quiet, chaos and control.
“Ah, we’re doomed,” Seungkwan groaned dramatically, looking at the lineup.
“Why? Because you have to carry the team?” Hoshi shot back.
“No, because I am the team!”
Iseul laughed softly, and that was the first moment they all noticed her properly.
Working with them wasn’t easy—but it wasn’t hard either.
Seungkwan quickly took on the role of her self-appointed best friend, constantly hyping her up.
“Did you hear her? Did you hear that note?!” he’d shout at anyone within range.
Hoshi treated her like a creative equal, dragging her into choreography discussions.
“Wait—what if the beat drops here instead?” she suggested once.
Hoshi froze. “Wait… that’s actually genius.”
Mingyu hovered somewhere between helpful and hopeless, always offering to carry things for her… even when she didn’t need it.
“I can hold your notebook.”
“I’m using it.”
“I can still hold it.”
But it was the others who made things… complicated.
Seungcheol watched her like he was trying to figure her out—always nearby, always attentive. If she looked even slightly tired, he was the first to notice.
“You should rest,” he said once, handing her a drink before she could even ask.
Wonwoo didn’t say much, but when he did, it was always to her.
“You write lyrics, right?” he asked quietly one afternoon.
She nodded.
“I’d like to read them… if that’s okay.”
And Woozi—
Woozi was the one who understood her without trying.
They ended up in the studio together more than once, sitting side by side in comfortable silence, building melodies from nothing.
“You think in layers,” he told her, eyes still on the screen. “Not a lot of people do that.”
Neither of them realized how close they’d leaned in until Seungkwan burst into the room yelling about snacks.
Somewhere along the way, things shifted.
Seungcheol started lingering longer than necessary.
Wonwoo started bringing her books—“just something you might like.”
Woozi started saving her a seat. Always the same one. Next to him.
Even Mingyu’s teasing softened, Hoshi’s energy sharpened around her, and Seungkwan—well, Seungkwan just got louder about how amazing she was.
“She’s ours now,” he declared one day, throwing an arm around her shoulders. “Officially part of the team.”
“No one asked you,” Woozi muttered, but he didn’t disagree.
The final day of filming came too fast.
They wrapped up their performance, laughter echoing through the set, but there was a quiet understanding underneath it all.
This wasn’t permanent.
Iseul was going back to BigHit. They had their own path ahead.
Hoshi pointed at her. “Next time we meet, we’re making something big.”
Wonwoo just gave her a small nod.
Woozi hesitated before speaking. “If you ever need… a studio. Or someone to work with.”
Seungcheol didn’t say much.
He just pulled her into a brief, firm hug.
Years later, when Iseul Kim debuted—not just as a soloist, but as a producer whose sound people couldn’t ignore—there were familiar names cheering the loudest.
And every now and then, when their schedules aligned, when music brought them back into the same room—
It felt exactly like 2013 again.
Only this time, none of them were pretending not to fall just a little harder.
- milk-moonbunnies presents her Seventeen masterlist -
[WARNING!]
This is an 18+ blog to interact with - mdni
⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡
Nerd! Seventeen [au] mstrlst
°✩⋆｡ Seungcheol ｡⋆✩°
First Date - Seungcheol is nervous.
Feel Good - Seungcheol helps you understand that you should stand up for yourself.
Call, Call, Call - What if, as a call girl, you get a new job? What if you're you're favorite regular turns out to be your new boss?
Whipped - What happens when you drunkenly decide whipped cream sounds amazing, right now? What if Seungcheol wants some, too?
Wife - On your honeymoon, you take the opportunity to wake your husband with a little fun
Energy - After a concert, Scoups has a lot of energy he needs to let out - you help him
loser otaku!seungcheol - blurb
unresolved - ANGST: Seungcheol finally talks to you again, after some time has passed
It’s Not Enough - Part 2 - pwp. get double stuffed
pervy! Seungcheol add-on from this
Travel Buddy - Seungcheol helps you relax on a long flight
Eyes On Me - A shopping trip with your boyfriend leaves you happy and satisfied.
°✩⋆｡ Jeonghan ｡⋆✩°
Jeonghan manspreads
boyfriend! Jeonghan - only fluff
Cock Drunk
Tastes Like Mine - Jeonghan is the second hand in a crime syndicate. When you catch his eye, his interest quickly turns into an obsession. And when he wants something, he'll eventually have it.
soft cuddly! Jeonghan
WAP - Jeonghan loves your kitty kat
Jealous - Jeonghan gets jealous, and he makes it clear who you belong to.
college bf! Jeonghan x reader
°✩⋆｡ Joshua ｡⋆✩°
frat boy! Joshua
Rush Hour - When your fwb/co-worker lives in the same apartment building as you, you two commute together during the morning rush
°✩⋆｡ Jun ｡⋆✩°
Bound to You - [demon!dino & angel!jun x reader] What happens if you become an unwilling sacrifice for idiots wanting fame? What if they make a mistake and summon a demon? What if he’s not alone?
Restraint - A tied-up Jun, yes please
It Was Always You - [Jun x reader x Dino] childhood friends, you always find your way back to each other.
°✩⋆｡ Soonyoung/Hoshi ｡⋆✩°
Loser!Hoshi - Two
Missed You - When Hoshi comes back from basic training, he shows you how much he missed you
pervy! Hoshi add-on from this
°✩⋆｡ Wonwoo ｡⋆✩°
Stress Relief - Lawyer!Wonwoo's most recent case is getting on his nerves - you relieve that stress for him.
Slippery When Wet - Wonwoo plays with you like it's a game.
°✩⋆｡ Jihoon/Woozi ｡⋆✩°
Jihoon moans
Slippery - pwp
pervy! Woozi add-on from this
°✩⋆｡ Minghao ｡⋆✩°
Pre-tea (pretty.) - With the success of Minghao's video featuring ASMR with Vernon, he decides to do another one, and this time the guest is someone he's always watched videos of: a widely known YouTuber, you.
Muse - Art major! Minghao needs a new muse for his portfolio for the upcoming finals. He puts up an ad for a "nude model" and never expected his long-time crush to answer the call.
°✩⋆｡ Mingyu ｡⋆✩°
Needy - Kim Mingyu likes neediness.
mean alpha! mingyu x reader headcanons
Study Break - Mingyu gives you a study break
°✩⋆｡ Seokmin/DK ｡⋆✩°
loser!Dokyeom x reader - two (prequel)
shy! Dokyeom x reader
Playing House - Going raw for the first time? DK doesn't stand a chance.
°✩⋆｡ Seungkwanie ｡⋆✩°
Seungkwan moans
Say Thank You - Seungkwan is a school teacher, and sometimes, when you see him work so hard, you can't help but want to ease his stress.
°✩⋆｡ Vernon ｡⋆✩°
Noona - Vernon's got a Noona kink
Inexperienced Loser! Vernon x Plus size! Reader
°✩⋆｡ Dino ｡⋆✩°
Dino moans
Bound to You - [demon!dino & angel!jun x reader] What happens if you become an unwillingly sacrifice for idiots wanting fame? What if they make a mistake and summon a demon, what if he’s not alone?
After Hours - What if you accidentally wake up Dino? What if he wakes you up on purpose?
Kiss It Better - After a fight, Dino shows up at your door to have you care for him. Will you kiss him better?
dino x reader drabble - ask him to choke you
It Was Always You - [Jun x reader x Dino] childhood friends, you always find your way back to each other.
Thinkin’ Bout You - When your best friend’s younger brother invites you to his birthday party, you realize how much he’s grown. Causing you to see him in ways you probably shouldn’t.
Drunk Kisses - Friends kiss friends drunk.
misc.
blurb - blurb 2 - blurb 3 - blurb 4
OT13 reacts:
boobs - make-up sex - period - halloween costumes - caught - gym
spit - pervy! svt sleepover - spooning - how they sleep -
SYNOPSIS — murder, poison and corruption: all crimes that your family is rumored to have committed. when you and your relatives suddenly have to deal with the mysterious death of one of your own, choi seungcheol — a newly transferred detective — seizes the opportunity to find the truth behind your family’s notorious reputation. it’s only once he’s too far into the twisted rabbit hole that he realizes there might be no way back.
TAGS — religious themes, dark content (stepcest, death), explicit sexual content, dad is playing chess and his kids are the pawns, something about the apple being rotten right to the core, the poison drips through, angst! sex!! tragedy!!!
NOTE — heavily influenced by the borgias (2011). important to know is that mingyu and jeonghan are blood-related brothers in this, mc is their stepsister but they all consider and treat eachother as full siblings. don’t like don’t read.
♫ — dealer by lana del rey / apple by charli xcx / inbred by ethel cain / birthday theme (out of tune) by victor butzelaar / you and whose army? by radiohead
𝓞N A RAINY MONDAY MORNING IN SEPTEMBER, seungcheol walks into the tall building belonging to the department of public safety with a white umbrella above his head.
instead of scanning a keycard like everyone else, he walks up to the woman at the front desk. “hi, it’s my first day on the job. i was told to ask for a mr. chwe?”
“sure. can i have your name, please?”
“choi seungcheol.”
she types away at the computer in front of her, nodding once she’s confirmed it in the system. standing up, she allows him to pass through the electronic gates, gesturing to the elevators. “head up to the 13th floor, mr. chwe will meet you there.”
“thank you.” he says, pressing the button with the number thirteen on it.
as soon as he arrives on the highest floor in the building, he’s greeted by a surprisingly young man with clearly dyed ash-blond hair and a somewhat dead expression on his face.
“good to meet you, mr. choi. i’m hansol chwe. the chief of the department is out today so you’ll meet him later this week. for at least the next couple months, i’ll be your supervisor.”
“great.” cheol responds, and hansol gives him a tour of the floor, showing him around, eventually ending up in the office that apparently belongs to him.
as seungcheol shrugs off his raincoat to put it over his chair, hansol sits down in front of him. “your first assignment was changed last minute, and it’s scheduled for this afternoon.”
hansol hands him a dark blue folder, subtly checking if anyone’s within earshot outside the glass doors of cheol’s office, much to the latter’s surprise. “is it classified?”
“in a way.” hansol replies, and cheol opens the folder, met with a name he recognizes.
“the kim family?”
“you’ve heard of ‘em, right?”
“yeah. i’d be living under a rock if i didn’t. don’t know much about them individually, though.”
hansol begins his explanation, pointing at the photo of an older man. “their father, youngwoo, owns more than half of the top businesses of the country, not to mention his global enterprises. he’s intimidating, but not unapproachable. you watch one of his public interviews and it’s glaringly obvious he knows he’s always the smartest man in the room.”
“didn’t his wife die, like, years ago?” cheol asks, recalling how the nation mourned the woman as if the people lost a saint.
“in 2007, yeah.” he nods, switching to a photo of four considerably younger people. “their kids are a noteworthy case — one of them, joshua, was found dead in his apartment last week.”
“i saw it on the news. they haven’t disclosed a cause of death yet, right?”
“nope. the authorities don’t know if the guy was murdered, even though most of the signs point to it, but the family didn’t want an autopsy to be done.”
an interesting choice, considering a family member was possibly killed. why would they not choose to have an autopsy done?
more importantly, “but if it’s ordered by the medical examiner, they shouldn’t have a say in it.”
hansol clicks his tongue. “these people do.”
seungcheol takes a look at the remaining kids in the photo. one daughter, two sons. all in their twenties, each with their own set of empty, cold eyes.
“you haven’t told me what the assignment is yet.” he says, and hansol lowers his voice.
“an informant involved in another investigation claimed the kim family had something to do with a brutal murder just outside the country border. something about honor and revenge.” he explains. “me and a few colleagues, along with the chief, want to dismantle them by taking their crimes to the public. but to do that, we need solid evidence, and the only way to get it is if we can get closer to them somehow.”
“and how do we do that?”
“the one that died, joshua, is set to be buried today. you need to attend the funeral. offer your condolences on behalf of the department. see what the circumstances are and report back after.”
cheol frowns. “just out of curiosity, why me and not someone who’s worked here longer?”
it elicits a stressed sigh from his supervisor. “normally, the chief would handle things like these, but he insisted on someone else handling it this time around. why, i have no idea. regardless, the chief chose you, since there’s rumors of some people who work here being on the family’s payroll, and you’re new. and capable, i assume.”
there’s a bigger gravity to this situation than he thought. the family is known to every person in the country, and the majority of the public speaks of them as if they’re gods living amongst mortals, though there’s also a select group of people that believes them to have ties to the criminal underworld.
seungcheol is aware that the family has great influence in society, but hearing it is apparently this serious, he begins to wonder how deep it runs.
“okay. i’ll go to the funeral. am i supposed to be looking for something in particular?”
“no, just... be careful. don’t give them the idea anything’s wrong. whatever you do, do not upset them.” hansol says with urgency in his voice.
cheol nods hesitantly. “alright. when do i leave?”
about three hours later, he’s driving up to the front gate of the estate that belongs to the family. he’s met with several armed, tough-looking men staring him down as if they suspect him of something.
they ask him for his name and identification, only letting him pass once they’ve found and crossed his name off the list.
the doors to the massive house itself are guarded as well. the funeral takes place in an old chapel, which happens to be located on their property, overlooking the city from the top of the hill.
the ceremony feels ominously depressing. with only a few candles lit inside the chapel, the rain still pouring outside, the sizeable golden cross behind the open casket reflecting the only bits of light in the dark hall — it makes him uncomfortable.
it makes him feel like he shouldn’t be here.
once the ceremony is over and people are standing in the garden outside, chattering in small groups as if it were a regular business occasion, seungcheol squints while observing the people he’s heard so much about from afar. from a safe distance, they seem like your regular wealthy, stuck-up trust fund kids, but even he can tell there’s more to them than meets the eye.
a daughter and two sons, if he remembers hansol’s words correctly. he recognizes them from the photo in the folder — you, mingyu, and jeonghan. all of you barely ever speak to the press, but there’s plenty of paparazzi photos of you on the internet.
it’s hard to say if any of the rumors are true, though seungcheol is convinced some of them have to be. your family has a terrifying amount of influence over the country, he realizes, with at least one person installed in every branch of society.
the one they’re burying today, joshua, was a man high up in the catholic church. jeonghan is active in politics and has ties with the government. your father brings the most money to the table as a private equity investor, you’re a philanthropist and patron of sciences and technology, and mingyu is in education, art and culture.
seungcheol has to admit — it’s a smart strategy.
and he can’t help but wonder what goes on behind that tall front door when no one’s looking.
for some reason, his eyes settle on you. you’re wearing a black midi dress with long sleeves, a thin see-through mourning veil secured in your perfectly done hair, almost no emotion to be detected on your face.
only the tears silently rolling down your cheeks prove a different story. you’re standing between your two brothers, eventually choosing to lay your head on mingyu’s shoulder, who rubs at your back in an attempt to comfort you. jeonghan can only glance at you from the corner of his eye, wishing you would turn to him for comfort instead.
as always, it’s his father who ends up putting a hand on his shoulder.
out of the four of you, jeonghan is the oldest. the firstborn. calculating, distant, always carrying that attitude of being the smartest guy in the room. exceedingly manipulative, though to be fair, that’s a trait all of you share.
joshua was older than you but younger than jeonghan. you were close with him — he had the most humanity out of your brothers, and carried a more lighthearted attitude compared to the rest of the family.
you may not share blood with them, but you’ve been raised together from such a young age that you can’t remember what it’s like to be an only child. they were the sons from your stepmother’s previous marriage, but with their biological father out of the picture relatively quickly and your father stepping up, you became a true family in no-time.
it’s mingyu, the family’s youngest, who ended up being your favorite. always so capable, willing to help, not as emotionally closed off as jeonghan is.
a fatal flaw your brothers have shared since the day you met them is envy. your father put each of his children in a different branch of society to ensure the family would have maximum influence — without any of you having a say in the career path your father laid out for you.
jeonghan, as the eldest son of the family, has always gotten more of your father’s trust and respect than the rest of the siblings, leading to mingyu being openly jealous of his older brother. in turn, jeonghan desperately wants to be closer to you the way mingyu is, but he doesn’t know how, and it’s been causing a certain rift between them over the course of the past years that only seems to be getting bigger.
and now, with joshua gone, the massive house you all live in feels colder. lacking in something.
in the crowd of people having a drink after the funeral, mingyu’s dark gaze is fixed on you. as it often is.
he’s taking a sip of his drink when his brother walks up to him, a hand on his broad shoulder. “how you holding up?”
jeonghan may not be as tall as he is, but his personality is enough to outshine him — most of the time, anyway. “i’m fine. i wish all these people would leave.”
“i can ask dad to cut things short.”
mingyu snorts. “and miss out on all the sympathy points he’s gaining today? he’d never.”
it’s a fair point.
“joshua would’ve hated this. his funeral being attended by people he doesn’t know. people who didn’t know him. not really.” jeonghan sighs, subtly scanning the crowd around him.
“who even really knew him? aside from us three, and dad.”
“sounds fucking bleak when you say it like that.”
“it’s the truth.”
their eyes both find you looking out over the city, arms crossed over your chest. mingyu’s tone turns softer when he speaks of you, “she’s a wreck.”
jeonghan nods. “i tried to give her breakfast this morning. she would barely eat.”
“we should just… give her some time.” his younger brother shrugs, gesturing at someone else. “that guy’s been looking her up and down since he got here. i don’t like it.”
“never seen him before. if he got in, he was on the list.”
“i’ll go and talk to security, see if they remember his name.”
mingyu walks off, hoping to clear his mind, but jeonghan remains in his spot, observing his man of interest from where he’s standing.
seungcheol remembers what hansol advised him. don’t draw unnecessary attention. these people are our enemies, even if they don’t act like it.
he thinks striking up a conversation with you might cost him the job he’s only just gotten, but something tells him to do it anyway.
as you’re getting a glass of water, you’re approached by a man in a dark suit. he’s been eyeing you for quite some time, as you’ve noticed.
your voice is hoarse from crying earlier. “can i help you?”
“choi seungcheol. i’m a detective for public safety,” he introduces himself, extending his hand to you, “i came to give condolences on behalf of the department.”
you look him up and down with such judgement in your features that he retracts his hand, as you clearly don’t seem willing to introduce yourself. he’s good-looking, you’ll admit, but you can’t find it in you to care.
“did you? so first your chief fails to give our family the requested protection, and now that my brother is dead, he has the nerve to send one of his workers to save face?”
well, that’s new information.
he wants to convince you that whatever you’re thinking is not the case, but to be honest, he doesn’t even know if it is. all he knows about this case is what hansol told him this morning.
apologetically, he lowers his head. “i’m a recent transfer. any business you have with the chief is unknown to me.”
with a mocking nod of your head, you scoff. “i’m sure. you should leave and tell your boss we know what he did — then go on ahead and fuck off to whatever hole you crawled out of.”
jeonghan walks up to you from behind, his hands finding your waist. “what’s going on, sis?”
“nothing.” you shake your head as tears form on your waterline, anger rising in your features. “just make sure security escorts him out. he’s got no reason to be here.”
“no need. i’ll see myself out.” seungcheol says, feeling so unwanted that it irks him. the comment earns a glare from both you and your brother, and he instantly feels a sense of relief once he’s returned to the other side of the front gate, only to be left wondering if he screwed up his job on the first day within a single conversation.
frankly, he’s a little shocked. not just by your hostility — it certainly wouldn’t be the first time someone was lashing out at a funeral — but by the look you gave him.
holding your head high in mourning is a rare thing, and your entire family does it remarkably easily. but fuck, you looked at him as if he were beneath you. like some ant that should be thankful to be squashed under the weight of your boot. he’s never had someone look at him like that, let alone be so transparent about it.
seungcheol has yet to understand that attitude is something that’s been hammered into your skull.
you and your brothers were raised to be like this. spoiled from the moment you opened your eyes, bathed in wealth and influence, unaware that your paths in life were already determined for you.
how could anyone expect you to be any different?
hours later, when the sun has gone down and everyone has left, you’re the only one left in the chapel. it was built hundreds of years ago, slowly crumbling bit by bit as the stone ages.
with the veil discarded on the floor and some mascara under your eyes, you stare at the cross in front of you with nothing but emptiness.
“you shouldn’t be alone at a time like this.” you hear your father approaching the bench you’re sitting on. “your brothers need you.”
you shrug. “i know. i just wanna be by myself right now.”
but you should know, after all these years, that your wishes are simply not as important as the family.
“my lovely daughter.” he says as he sits down next to you, and you raise a brow. “how have you been holding up?”
“what do you want from me?”
it elicits a scoff from him. “am i not allowed to ask how you’re feeling?”
“you’re using that tone that tells me you’re about to ask me something.”
“how observant of you.” with a sigh, he lets himself relax on the wooden bench. “you spoke to a detective at joshua’s funeral.”
that has you frowning at him. “how do you know that?”
“your brother told me.”
he doesn’t even need to say mingyu’s name for you to know it was him. always trying to please dad — even if it means ratting you out.
even your favorite brother has his flaws.
“yeah, i did.” you shrug. “he came to offer his condolences.”
“and what did you tell him?”
“i told him we don’t like it when outsiders try to stick their nose where it doesn’t belong.”
he sighs. “as much as i agree, you know we need the favor of the public.”
“yes, dad, but what good is that favor if it doesn’t give us anything back? we asked for their support and they weren’t willing to give it.”
“we need to give some people the time to trust us, or at the very least realize that siding with us is in their best interest. in very few cases, we meet someone who fails to realize that. and what do we do in such cases?”
knowing the phrase by heart, it rolls from your tongue like a robot repeating its singular line. “we replace them.”
your father has that hint of a smile on his face that he typically only wears during moments like these; moments in which he realizes he’s programmed his children to think like him. that his family is a united front.
“you’re right. the chief has failed us — he has for quite some time. so we should get a new one. luckily, there’s a candidate that seems to have almost all the requirements.”
handing you a document, you scan it briefly, noticing that it’s some intel a private investigator formed on the detective in question.
your father puts his hand on your shoulder. “he’s only a few years older than you. an impressive resumé, and he seemed charmed by you, despite the fact that you lashed out at him.”
“he started last week. everyone’s gonna think it’s strange if he gets this promotion. and how are you so sure this man will bend to our will?”
it’s quiet for a second.
“use that charm of yours, hm?”
with a blank stare, you look him in the eye. your eye twitches once you realize what he’s getting at. “no.”
“darling—” he tries, but you interrupt him.
“dad, we just… i just buried my brother. i’m grieving. the last thing i want is to spend my time being sweet on some guy i don’t even know.”
“i know. i know that.” he wipes away the tear rolling down your cheek. “but they are onto us. i’d never ask this of you under these circumstances if i didn’t think the situation was dire.”
i don’t want to do this. i don’t want to do this, you want to scream at him. nothing comes out.
your father is not cold. not mean. not without heart. it’d be much easier to hate him if he was. perhaps you could hate him if you didn’t find yourself and your brothers reflected in his eyes.
and your father is, above all else, ambitious. he doesn’t stop until he has what he wants.
so you swallow the lump in your throat, and you nod in agreement. “fine. i’ll do it.”
thank u for reading!
please note that this is still a work in progress and i have no fixed date when the full fic will be posted. leave a comment if you want to be tagged once the full thing comes out!
® SANAKIRAS — do not repost, remake or copy my work in any way whatsoever. translations are not allowed.
In which you’re the assistent of nightmare model Xu Minghao before resigning and becoming the assistant of rookie actor Kim Mingyu, who happens to be Minghao’s co-presentor on a show they’re shooting together.
pairing model!minghao x f!assistant!reader x actor!mingyu current word count 29.2K tags famous!gyuhao, assistant!reader, mean!dom!minghao, soft!dom!mingyu, power play, angst?ish?, love triangle?, toxicity warnings dubcon, smut, depictions of a toxic relationship, cursing, alcohol
This is a seventeen smut blog (I know, I know, one of many). Most stories will revolve around Scoups but some might involve other members 🍒
NOTES & DISCLAIMERS
Everything here is FICTION and NOT based on real events.
This blog is NOT a space that minors should be on. If you are underaged, please, respectfully, GTFO.
I switch between first person (“I”) and second person (“you”) depending on the scene and which POV I think drives the story the best.
All images used on this blog are not mine unless stated otherwise. Full credit goes to the original owners, including official sources such as agencies, brands, and photographers.
Images are used for storytelling and aesthetic purposes only. No copyright infringement is intended.
If you are the owner of any content and would like it removed, please contact me and I will take it down promptly.
MASTERLIST
Premise: You are one of Seventeen’s backup dancers. You have a dom-sub NSA arrangement with Scoups.
Thus far, all my stories are continuations of one another but can be read as standalone quickies:
Pre-concert orders : Scoups x reader
Leader #2 : Hoshi x reader
Post-concert consequence : Scoups x reader
Perks of being a dancer : Hoshi x reader (ft scoups)
Wicked Gifts 🎁 : Scoups x reader
Pretty Punishment: Scoups x reader
Another Type of Workout: Mingyu x reader x Wonwoo
Three’s a Crowd 🍒🐯👾: Scoups x reader x Hoshi | Wonwoo
Shades of Green: Scoups x reader
Good luck charm: Scoups x reader x Mingyu
Celebrating in style: Scoups x reader x Joshua | Hoshi | Mingyu | Wonwoo | Dino (please observe the tags and warning on this one)
Check in - sub city: Scoups x reader
Dancing Out of Frame: Hoshi x reader x Scoups
Twilight Whispers: Scoups x reader
Player One Goes First: Scoups x reader
Player Two Enters the Game: Scoups x reader x Wonwoo
Handled with Care: Scoups x reader
Insert Coin to Play: Scoups x reader
A Bet to Serve: Scoups x reader x Hoshi | Mingyu
___ on the Beach: Scoups x reader
Lights Out and Away We Go: Scoups x reader
Pay Up — and Shut up: Mingyu x reader (ft Scoups)
To-Do: No Exceptions: Woozi x reader x DK | Jun | Hoshi | ft Mingyu & Scoups
Debts Paid — The Final Forfeit: Mingyu x reader x Scoups | DK | Jun | Hoshi | Woozi | Joshua
Between Shadows and Daybreak : Scoups x reader x Mingyu | Joshua | Jun
Steering You Right: Scoups x reader
Update: this has somehow turned into a full series. It didn’t start out that way, but it’s funny how the story evolves and starts having a mind of its own.
the small romantic gestures that seventeen would be @fairyhaos
Kim Mingyu
guilty as sin (the thought crosses your mind that this is something you definitely shouldn't be doing. that what you're just about to do will be a terribly wrong move for you and your freshly broken heart.) @toruro
clarity (bf's best friend mingyu, (awkward) acquaintances to lovers, the other side of the f2l trope, angst, smut, you could say there's a drizzle of fluff) @hannieoftheyear
pure coincidence (office worker!mingyu x officer worker!reader) @sluttyminghao
that’s so true ❤️🩹(exes!mingyu x reader.) @studioeisa
The Admirer Was Right in Front of You — Kim Mingyu (Non-idol au, college au, romance (?), comedy, modern au (no specific setting, but contemporary vibe), slice of life and light-hearted mystery ) @mylovesstuffs
STRAWBERRY SCENTED STRINGS (bassist! mingyu x cellist! f reader) @himewonu
SAVE THE DATE (5 weddings in one year. 5 dates you saved for you and your boyfriend to attend — before he cheated. and now, you had to force your best friend, vernon, to go with you. but after losing a bet, mingyu agrees to take vernon’s place and be your date. this wasn’t how any of this was supposed to go, but you guess you could settle going with your only one-night-stand from college.) @goldenhourology
Back To Me (Mingyu or Hansol? You finally decide who you want to be with.) @xomakara
still yours (exes to lovers, second chance romance, fluff, angst, smut MDNI!) @cherrynpink
Theories & Heartstrings (Neighbours AU! Fake Dating AU! (but only one is fake dating. It’ll make sense when you read it, lol). Non-Idol AU!.) @wongyuseokie
croissant cravings (A seating chart mix-up has you crossing paths with a very good-looking pastry chef. ) @facethesunflower
Let Me Hear You Say... (mut (minor dni), heavy angst, fluff, toxic, ranch au, brothers best friend au) @onlymingyus
KITTY'S GOT CLAWS (a svt spiderman x jujutsu kaisen au (what a mouthful >< ), spiderman!mingyu, blackcat!reader, lots of banter, mild fighting scenes = mentions of blood and injuries !!, fluff with angst if you squint) @yi2huo
might let you make me juno @straylightdream
good behavior (just smut tbh) @ddeonghwa-s
Jeon Wonwoo
My Ride or Die (Late one night, you're attacked outside the library—your bag stolen and safety shattered. But someone saw everything. A mysterious stranger steps in to recover what was lost. What begins as a random rescue soon hints at deeper intentions and unexpected connections.) @missgraylock
WHAT IF you were wonwoo’s gf and almost got caught during NANA TOUR surprises… @cherriicou
good sport | wicked games series (bartender wonwoo, bartender mingyu, messy love triangle, friends with benefits, right person wrong time) @hannieween
on call (you'd never sleep in an on-call room, but that doesn't mean you won't find other uses for it.) @kkaetnipjeon
first love/late spring (first love/s, feelings realization/denial, reincarnation.) @studioeisa
The Fine Print (Enemies to Lovers | Fake Dating | Revenge Pact | Forced Marriage Fallout) @kathaelipwse
Lip Tint Stains and Hair Ties (childhood friends to lovers, school, college, slow burn, fluff, one shot, peachesndreams) @shineesbackbitches
Yours to Keep (Before leaving for military service, Wonwoo hands you a disposable camera, saying, "Take a picture whenever you think of me." At first, you laugh it off, but as the days pass, you find yourself reaching for the camera more often than you expected) @nerdycheol
make 'em sweat (introducing you to his friends doesn't go quite the way wonwoo expected (title from water by seventeen ; technically a sequel to fuck the neighbors but can be read as a standalone) @sluttywonwoo
progress report: i am missing you to death - jww(Childhood friends to lovers, smut, fluff, angst, college au) @imnotshua
CHEMTRAILS (Wonwoo is the last person you expect to find at a grief support group, but he may just be the peace that you need to weather all of your storms.) @vampsol
Warning Signal (In a treacherous turn of events, your most recent mission gets tangled with Wonwoo's, the last person you'd want to partner up with. As the lives of your targets get more and more intertwined, and your plan gets more complicated, memories of the past and feelings you thought you could put aside threaten to ruin the mission.) @hannieoftheyear
A New Vendetta (Wonwoo x Mafia's daughter reader) @thedensworld
wish you were here (you don't do long-distance. you never have, and you never will. not unless it's jeon wonwoo - and those chances are slim, as it is.) @haologram
My Brother's Bestfriend (fluff, light angst, smut, established relationship, doting!boyfriend wonwoo, slightly possessive!wonwoo, light comedy, soft but intense makeout sessions, lap-sitting & straddling, emotional intimacy, domestic sweetness, wonwoo being obsessed with reader™, mild tension but nothing too serious, clingy!wonwoo (unintentionally), wonwoo official lipstick tester & lip plumper) @honeyhaeya
SLACKING OFF. ( being technologically averse, yet a complete control freak to your core, you tend to annoy senior IT specialist, jeon wonwoo, to no end. but after an apology brings you two closer together, wonwoo finds himself reaching out to you more often than not. on and off slack. despite what you two had originally perceived, you find yourself thrown into feelings that neither of you could've ever prepared for.) @goldenhourology
heaven knows (non-idol au, seminary student joshua, hurt/comfort (??), secret relationship, mentions of church, joshua is the pastor's son, mutual pining, physical touching (ex: hugging, holding hands), pet names (joshua calls reader baby), they are not slick your honor everyone knows they're in love) @seokminfilm
When Tangerines Give You Lemons (joshua fluff, joshua angst, joshua both, joshua breathing, joshua existing, non-idol!au, lawyer!au, hurt & comfort, angst first fluff later kinda; a warm rain after a heavy storm) @moonstarsunflower
Break (h.js) (Witch!Joshua x Cursed!Reader) @sailorsoons
starting again (you're wallowing in self-pity at your friends' wedding after being cheated on. you think you're unworthy of love until you meet someone who changes your mind.) @wonwootattoo
i can still see it all. (best friends to strangers to friends to lovers, non au, set in svtverse, idol!joshua, hairstylist!reader, some angst, nsfw, smut, unprotected sex, biting, hair pulling, dacryphilia, teasing, fingering, multiple orgasms, drunk sex, mentions of alcohol.) @woncheolisms
we both 🐚 (romance, friendship, light angst. 🐚 includes. mentions of food, death; cussing/swearing. alternate universe: non-idol; joshua is a marine biologist. bad-at-being-exes/exes to ???) @studioeisa
blurring the lines (you think you know everything about your best friend, dashing bachelor joshua hong. when you stumble upon his suggestive literature from his recent travels, however, reading even an extract is enough to make you question everything. unsure of your newfound feelings, you turn to your confidante, unaware of just how much knowledge—and experience—he has to offer.) @amourcheol
begging for the next (no one needs to know what you and joshua get up to except the two of you.) @100vern
Yoon Jeonghan
dropout | part one (okay, so you dropped out of law school. and you need a job. and the only job your wildly specific resume can get you is… lifeguard at the local 3.2-star water park, and the person assigned to supervise you at your new post is the mysterious and gorgeous yoon jeonghan. what could possibly go wrong? ) @kkaetnipjeon
always the lover, never the loved (lovers to ??? ; angst, mentions of suggestive themes) @haologram
Undue Influence (lawyer fem!reader x lawyer!jeonghan) @starlightxsvt
the final defense of the dying (hunger games mentor!jeonghan x tribute!reader.) @studioeisa (IM OBSESSED WITH THIS ONE)
Even Dumbasses Deserve Love (Yoon Jeonghan, your beautiful, wonderful, amazing, dumb-ass of a best friend who somehow doesn't see how hopelessly in love with him you are. ) @cheers-to-you-th
𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙣 𝙚𝙭𝙥𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙙 (after an arranged marriage you come to realize that your new husband, the crown prince, and his kingdom are not like anything you expected) @yerimacoustic
Lee Seokmin
you deserve each other (co-workers seokmin x reader.) @studioeisa
Best Neighbor of All Time Award | Lee Seokmin (M) (Seokmin is the best neighbor you've ever had, making it impossible not to fall for his charms.) @drunk-on-dk
picture of a perfect rose (n total years of your whole life, you met Seokmin only twice. That will change drastically starting now. Because the young King is unfortunately a good person, loves his mother, and a true believer in good of people. No matter how hard it is to find and how cold he looks outside.) @youngwonhui
You Know What They Say About Men With Big Feet @hansols-yoda-boxers
Lee Chan
Cherry Sours (l.c) (Mafiaverse, Cyberpunk, Strangers to Lovers) @sailorsoons
CHWE HANSOL
Dark Gospel (c.hs) (After experiencing what you’re sure is a possession, you try to help Vernon get his old self back. Except - Vernon doesn’t want his old self back and you’re not sure you hate the new Vernon either. ) @sailorsoons
KISS 'ER UP (CHV) pt. 1 (baseball player!vernon x fashion designer/fan!reader) @shuastar
Kwan Soonyoung
in the zone | ksy (strangers to lovers, (accidental) roommates; smut, fluff, lite angst) @100vern
we can be all we need (best friends to lovers, idiots in love, a bit of miscommunication, angst for like one second, happy ending) @joshujin
the accidental kiss (fluff, comedy, strangers to lovers au, college au, idiots to idiots in love, profanity, alcohol consumption—please let me know if i’ve missed anything!) @fxstpace
busy woman @straylightdream
Echoes of Summer (Get ready for the most unforgettable summer yet at Camp Logan, where lifelong memories are made, friendships are strengthened, and old crushes make new appearances.) @mr-cha-n
red wine supernova (friends to lovers, childhood friend to lovers, romance, fluff, smut) @straylightdream
Xu Minghao
Rain Room (x.mh) (Waterpark Worker!Mingao x Waterpark Worker!Reader) @sailorsoons
the quiet world (minghao saves his words for you.) @studioeisa
SUMMARY: You were just an ordinary woman, living a quiet, uneventful life, until your dangerously hot new neighbors, Kim Mingyu and Choi Seungcheol, moved in next door. What started as innocent, late-night fantasies after discovering their secret adult channels spirals into something real when they catch you watching. But the two men aren’t just porn stars, they’re vampires, and they’ve been waiting to claim you. What follows is a night of blood, lust, and possession that blurs the line between fear and ecstasy.
A/N: LMAO the banner is so cringe 😭 EWWWW. Anyway, I tried to write something nasty (even though it’s really not that nasty), and honestly—I failed. But who cares.
Your breath came in chopped gasps as Mingyu's huge cock plunged deep into your pussy, each hard thrust quivering with pleasure through your body. His fingers gripped your hips bruisingly tight, tugging you back onto him as Seungcheol crouched in front of you, his fingers tangled in your hair, pushing your mouth down onto his hard length. You sucked hungrily, tongue tracing the crown as he fucked your mouth with relentless pace, his grunts alternating with Mingyu's behind you.
"Fuck, you're taking us so beautifully," Seungcheol growled, voice low and commanding, eyes heavy-lidded with lust. Saliva dripped from your lips as you gagged slightly, but the stretch in the back of your throat only made you more wet, your walls clenching around Mingyu's cock.
Mingyu leaned in, his chest against your back, teeth raking your shoulder. "She's ours now," he growled, nipping at your skin sharply enough to leave behind a thin line of blood. The burning pain caused you to moan around Seungcheol's cock, your body bowing in delight.
It started nights ago, or maybe weeks? Time has lost all sense in the haze of your addiction.
You were just an average working woman in your late twenties, working your ass off to cover your bills. Being from a middle-class family that did not support your aspirations left you with no choice but to do everything by yourself — no easy way out, no cushion. That left you with hardly any time for enjoyment.
It wasn't that you never went out to a party or hooked up with some random dude, but those occasions were few and far between — once in a blue moon. You'd started thinking that you'd die without ever having the kind of fun you craved… until two men became your unlikely heroes.
Two really hot men.
You were out picking up your take-out dinner when a big truck stopped in front of your building. You didn't really pay attention at first — you assumed it was a family of four with two notorious little boys who'd definitely disturb your peace. But then a man stepped out of the truck.
A beautiful man.
His features were angular but there was softness to his face, and it worked a weird kind of magic. He had a kind of energy that yelled "Don’t you dare mess with me," and yet, all you could think about doing was messing with him. He was glaring at the driver for god-knows-why but you didn't care one whit — not when he looked so good while angry.
“What’s wrong with me? I don't even know him," you muttered to yourself, ruffling your hair as you turned to walk back into your flat. Then, however, another man stepped out of the truck — taller than the first one, maybe buffer too. He was friendly-looking, friendlier than the other. A wide smile flashed across his face as he tried to calm his friend down before he murdered the driver.
"Yah, hyung! Cut it out already, release him. He was just—" he glanced at his watch, "—five minutes late."
The elder one scoffed. "For you it might be 'just' five minutes, but for me, every fucking minute matters."
The younger man threw his arms in the air, muttering, "Yeah yeah, sure, hyung."
They kept arguing, and you just stood there gaping at them like it was showtime. And believe me, it was. Two handsome men arguing and pouting at each other? Headline act.
While you were having the best time of your life gaping at your spontaneous performance, the younger one noticed you. His face colored a bit before he elbowed the older man, still raving.
"Yah! What's wrong, huh? Where's your voice now? And why are you staring behind me—oh."
Both of them spun around and glared at you. Hard. It felt as if you'd been having an argument with yourself aloud.
The younger one was quicker to recover — and as you suspected, he certainly appeared to be the nicer one — because he approached you and began speaking.
"Hi! I'm Mingyu. Um. in terms of what you just saw, I assure you we're not bad people. Actually, we're rather fun! It's just—uh—we're exhausted from all the shifting and packing, so we kind of ended up biting our heads off at each other. I suppose you live in this flat too? Which means that we'll be flatmates! Ah, great! I was figuring that everybody around these parts is old — not that I'm complaining, anyway, because how could I, huh? We just got in—"
"Hey, catch your breath, Mingyu. You'll faint from all of that," you cut in with a chuckle. He did look out of breath, and you barely managed to catch half of what he said because he talked so fast.
“Oh, yeah," he muttered, flushing and stroking the back of his neck with a sheepish grin. "I just lost it because the last thing I want is for people to think we're some weird guys."
"Aha, that's fine. It was actually pleasant hearing you babble. Well—" you hesitated, "—I'm Y/N. I never introduced myself, did I?"
He went redder yet. Cute, you thought.
"That's a pretty name. Just like you—”
"Kim Mingyu not being cliché? Never."
The older man interrupted him, rolling his eyes.
"Yah, Choi Seungcheol—"
"What, Kim Mingyu?"
Oh, those must be their names then. Perfect names to moan—
"Well, hello," said Seungcheol with a charming smile. "I'm Choi Seungcheol. The older and responsible one out of the two."
Mingyu dramatically gasped and shoved him. "Who do you think you are, huh? I can literally tower you easily. Don't play around with me—"
"Do you two never quarrel, then? I don't think so for a second," you teased. "But I'm off anyway. We'll see each other another day, alright?"
Mingyu smiled disappointedly, but muttered a tiny "Yeah," and Seungcheol merely bestowed on you a polite smile before he departed. Rude maybe, but still cute.
After that first encounter, you were colliding with them — literally and metaphorically. It was unavoidable, considering that you all shared a wall. But you didn't care. They were not as rambunctious as the previous family that had occupied their space, and they did not have 2 am jam sessions like the university boys who preceded the previous ones.
Life was peaceful. Until it wasn't.
It was evening on a Saturday that you decided to use the apartment gym — and that was your worst decision ever.
Because there they were. Mingyu and Seungcheol. Working out.
And oh shit.
Sight of them nearly made your knees buckle. Seungcheol's grunts were sinful-sounding, and Mingyu's biceps were enough to make any person go weak. You wanted to bend your knees and—
Stop. You can't turn into a hot mess now.
You coaxed yourself to start your workout routine, pretending like you weren't about to burst.
"Hey Y/N!"
No. Not now, Mingyu.
His tone itself was enough to do the work on your stomach. And when you laid eyes on him — all dripping with sweat, muscles, and that infuriatingly beautiful smile — a soft whimper escaped your lips.
Shit. He didn't hear that, did he?
“Hey, Mingyu," you said, trying to sound normal. But how in the world could you, when he looked like a full meal?
"So, what are you doing here?"
Of all things, that's what you'd ask him? In a gym? Well done.
"I was making pancakes. Want some?" Mingyu stretched out the words.
Motherf— I'd rather eat you for.
"Nice joke, Kim Mingyu," you muttered under your breath, eye-rolling. "But come on, you guys go pretty hard at the gym, huh? All bulked up. Who are you impressing?"
Why did I just say that?
"You," he said with a wrist-flip.
You braced yourself. Not a single muscle moved.
".Nice joke, man."
Mingyu just brushed it off, but you knew. Something between you had shifted.
Each evening after work, you'd collapse onto your bed in your tiny apartment, laptop on, heart racing with anticipation. Mingyu and Seungcheol—those absurdly sexy neighbors of yours—had no idea they affected you like this. You'd caught glimpses of them in the corridor: Mingyu, wide shoulders and height, jawline like a razor, that wicked smile that made your knees melt; Seungcheol, those tough eyes, muscular physique, and attitude of sulky superiority that made your skin prickle. They lived in the flat next door, literally, but might as well have been a million miles away—until you discovered their online existences.
It began innocently enough. Horny and restless one night, you surfed through adult video sites looking for something to spice up your imagination. That's where you stumbled upon a channel called 'Midnight Alpha'—clips of a dude with Mingyu's very build, his face barely visible but those piercing eyes and the ripple of his abs under dim light recognizable. He was screwing this woman senseless on screen, his dick—long, ridged, and hard—thudding into her from the back as she called out his name. You froze the video, zooming in. The tiny tattoo on his hip—it was him. Mingyu.
Your pussy throbbed at the revelation. You watched clip after clip: him swallowing a partner with sloppy, ravenous licks, his tongue probing deep into her folds; him stroking his cock on camera in slow motion, pre-cum collecting at the tip before he ejaculated in thick ropes across his chest. Each clip left you soaked, fingers tracing your clit as if it was you he was fucking.
But that was not the end. A week later, you came across 'Shadow Beast'—Seungcheol's channel. His were crude, uncivilized videos. In one, he had a female pressed against a wall, her legs wrapped around his waist as he pushed his fat cock into her ass, grunting with each brutal thrust. His fingers left rosy marks on her thighs, and the manner in which he choked her gently while nuzzling her neck caused your breathing to catch. Once more, the descriptions fit: the artery coursing down his neck, the way his hair dipped just so. It was him.
Nights merged into ritual. You'd start with Mingyu's videos, spreading your legs as wide as you could and slipping two fingers within your dripping pussy, picturing his mouth upon your breasts, sucking your nipples tight until they pounded. Then you'd go to Seungcheol, rubbing your clit maniacally as you watched him dominate his lovers, dreaming of his strong hands holding you captive as he ravished you brutally. And the ultimate fantasy? A threesome. You, pinned between them, Mingyu's dick in you, your vagina, and Seungcheol's in your ass, their bodies pressing against you in a sweating, gasping mess. You'd cum so intensely every time, screaming out their names into the darkness, thinking it was as close as it was possible to get.
Then, one evening when it was raining, everything changed. You struggled home from work, wet and exhausted, wrestling with your keys in the hall. The door to their flat creaked as you walked past.
"Hey, neighbor," Mingyu's voice emerged, honey-sweet and warm. He braced against the frame, towel-drying wet hair, wearing only low-slung sweatpants hugging his hips. Water droplets ran down his smooth chest, and you couldn't help but stare, heat flushing your cheeks.
"Hi," you stammered, grasping your bag like a shield. "Rough day?"
He chuckled, the deep rumble that curled your stomach. "Kind of. Come in for a sec? I just made coffee. You might want to have some."
Against your better judgment—or perhaps due to it—you nodded and went in after him. His apartment was a replica of yours: same floor plan, same faded couch, even the same modern abstract on the wall. It was unsettlingly familiar, like entering a parallel universe of your own space. Mingyu handed you a hot mug, his fingers catching against yours, sending shivers up your arm.
"Strange, right?" he said, smiling as he caught sight of your wide eyes. "The buildings are uniform. Easy to. lose yourself in."
You had a sip of the coffee, trying to soothe your frazzle. He was standing so close, the scent of his soap—clean and masculine—wrapping around the air. Before you even had time to respond, the bedroom door creaked open and Seungcheol emerged, bare-chested and wearing boxers, his hair disheveled like he had just woken up.
"Mingyu, who's—" He stopped, his sharp eyes on you. A sly, wild smile spread across his face. "Well, well. Our little voyeur."
Your heart plunged. "What? I don't—"
Seungcheol stepped closer, towering over you, his shadow enveloping you. "We know you've been watching our videos. Every night. Masturbating to us. Imagining us both inside you."
Mingyu snickered softly behind you, his fingers trailing down your lower back. "The IP address brought us all the way here. Cute, how you'd think we'd be clueless."
Desire burned through you—not shame alone, but desire. They knew. And they weren't angry; their eyes sparkled with lust. "I. I'm sorry," you panted, but your words were hollow.
Seungcheol tilted your chin up with his fingers, forcing you to look at him. "Don't be. We've been waiting for you to take the first step. But since you like watching. how about we give you a live show?"
It struck so suddenly. One moment, mumbling apologies; the next, Seungcheol's lips slammed into yours, tongue shoved deep within your mouth with fierce ownership. Mingyu pressed against your back, fingers creeping up your shirt to squeeze your breasts, toying with your nipples until you whispered in the kiss.
They tore clothes off you in the living room, clothes pounding the floor in wild abandon. Seungcheol shoved you back onto the sofa, legs spread wide to shove his face between them. His tongue wet your pussy, flat and broad, sucking your clit into his mouth as two fingers drove deep, curling against your G-spot. You screamed, hips jerking as Mingyu dropped to his knees beside you, pushing his cock into your mouth. You sucked greedily, your cheeks indenting as he fucked your mouth, pre-cum salty on your tongue.
"Taste so fucking good," Seungcheol whispered against your folds, his stubble scraping your inner thighs. He added a third finger, stretching you, getting you ready for what came next.
They switched first—Mingyu rolling you over onto all fours and slamming your pussy from behind, his balls slapping your clit with each thrust, while Seungcheol made you deepthroat him. They switched afterward, Seungcheol's bigger cock opening your walls to their fullest, slamming so hard you saw stars. But it wasn't sufficient; you begged for more, for them both.
"You want us to stuff you?" Mingyu taunted, his voice husky and gravelly as he oiled his fingers and tormented your ass.
"Yes, please—fuck me together," you begged, quivering with desperation.
That's how you wound up like this: bent over the sofa arm, Seungcheol below you, his cock in your pussy as he thrust up into you. Mingyu behind, pushing his length into your ass inch by inch so you were full to bursting, sensation overwhelming, on the cusp of pain but sliding into pure ecstasy.
In the present, the memory disintegrated as the world snapped into focus—the burn of their cocks within you together, making you impossibly wide.
Seungcheol's hands dug into your hips, his fingers holding fast on your body as he thrust upwards, his cock slamming that sweet spot within you with every snap. "Ride me harder," he growled, slapping your ass cheek sharply, the sting forcing you to clamp around him.
Mingyu gained on you from the back, his strokes brutal and relentless, one hand wrapping around to stroke your clit in hard circles. "Gonna make you cum so hard that you forget your name," he breathed against your ear.
Sweat greased your bodies, the room filled with the wet slap of skin on skin, your muffled moans on nothing now as they pushed you into position. They had you on your back now, Seungcheol's cock remaining inside you and Mingyu riding over your chest, gliding his length between your breasts before thrusting back into your mouth. You sucked him ravenously, tasting yourself on him, as Seungcheol hooked your legs over his shoulders, bending you in half to drive deeper, his tip kissing your cervix.
But then something shifted. With pleasure building to a fever pitch, Seungcheol's eyes blazed an unnatural red, his fangs descending from the gums. He leaned in, burying them in the curve of your neck, the bite electric and slicing. Blood swelled, but instead of fear, a warmth washed over you, orgasm building like a tidal wave.
"Vampires," Mingyu panted, his own fangs glinting as he withdrew from your mouth and sank into your shoulder, claiming you in very much the same way. Double stabs sent you spinning, pussy dripping around Seungcheol's cock as you screamed, waves of orgasm crashing over you.
You didn't care—couldn't care. Discovery only made it more intense, their inhuman strength to fuck you harder, faster, without pausing. Seungcheol's thrusts became bestial, his hips rocking as he rode towards his orgasm. "Mine," he snarled against your skin, savoring the blood on your neck as he licked the wound shut.
Mingyu flipped you over once more, pulling you onto his lap reverse cowgirl so Seungcheol could take your ass this time. Double penetration went on, their cocks slapped against each other through the thin wall of skin between your holes, the friction driving them wild. You bounced from one to the other, impaled and taken, fingers digging into Mingyu's thighs as another orgasm formed.
"Come with us," Seungcheol ordered, his hand around your throat tight enough to make your eyes water with bliss.
They bit you again—Seungcheol on your thigh, Mingyu on your breast—claiming you as theirs in bloody declarations. The pain mixed with bliss, and you crested over. Your body convulsed, pussy and ass contracting around their cocks, milking them until they came. Seungcheol first, covering your ass in burning spurts of cum, grunting as he held you down. Mingyu pulled back at the very last moment, jerking off to spray strings of seed along and down your back and ass, taking you out to boot.
You dropped between them, tired and marked, their arms wrapped around you. Fangs retreated, eyes returning to normal, but the need was still there. "You're with us now," Mingyu said softly, kissing your forehead.
Seungcheol grunted, touching the mark on your neck. "Ours forever."
And as you drifted in the haze, you knew you'd never watch another video again—reality was so superior.
